Why We Fight
by Phantogram
Summary: From the Insurrection to the war with the Covenant, the courageous actions of the brave men and women of the UNSC Army were untold tales of vicious combat against a relentless enemy. For family man James Clarke, fighting with the Army was more than he had asked for. - Chapter 20 is up. Don't forget to review!
1. Chapter 1: Cold

Chapter 1: Cold

**1600 hours, August 23rd 2524, (Military Calender)/  
>Camp Overwatch, Planet Thern<strong>

Is it possible for humanity to be peaceful?

From our earliest ancestors, we have always found some reason or problem that causes us to feel the need to kill. Once you light the fuse on that bomb of feelings, the shockwave of death and destruction we create is immense. The Interplanetary Wars saw warfare like no other, in places not bound by the limits of Earth. Space was supposed to be the final frontier of exploration, but it became the frontlines of war as we beat each other into repression in the vacuum of space. War is in our blood. Mankind will always develop bigger and better ways to destroy each other, no matter how hard you try and prove me wrong. 'A man may devote himself to death and destruction to save a nation, but no nation will devote itself to death and destruction to save mankind', and old quote that I always thought about when I looked at the things around me. Will humans ever totally bind themselves together and take a breath of peace? I inhaled, taking in the air and letting it fill my lungs.

It was cold.

It was _really_ cold. If there is one thing I hate more than Insurrectionists, its the cold. Hypocritical, I know. I never said that I was unbound by human nature, hatred being one of those things. I rubbed my gloved hands together as I walked through Camp Overwatch towards the weapons depot, pondering about peace and war. I looked through my ice-rimmed sunglasses at the desolate world around me, the blizzard whipping up even more. Thern was an arctic wasteland, with nothing more than oil rigs and research stations as far as permanent human life goes. Four hundred and thirteen Army troopers of the 3rd Infantry Division arrived here three months ago to try and remove the Insurrectionist presence that was oppressing the UNSC oil fields harvesting the rich amounts of oil beneath the icy surface of the frozen world. No sooner after setting up Camp Overwatch, Innies started to hit us with raids a few times a day. We have had one hundred and fifty one casualties on Thern to date; seventy one deaths and eighty two wounded. We were low on ammunition, food, and water, only three weeks worth remaining. I carried with me only two magazines of 7.62mm ammunition for my MA5B assault rifle slung over my shoulder, and four magazines of M225 rounds for my M6D magnum which rested comfortably in my thigh holster, all of which would have to keep me alive for the next three days. You could say that our situation wasn't the best.

Camp Overwatch was situated in a flat enclave in a expansive escarpment, surrounded on all but the north-western approach. Close to forty semi-permanent tents, which had walls built with durable insulated canvas and metal frames, were set up inside of a barbed-wire compound. The tents also had 'luxurious' wooden doors, thick plexiglass windows and slabs of concrete as the floors. Large space heaters helped to keep the chill out of our bones, but most of the time even they succumbed to the frigid temperatures.

I trudged through the open area in the center of the camp housing a large central tent, where Colonel Arthur Montgomery and his staff managed operations on Thern. In the area surrounding the headquarters two dozen frost and snow-covered LAAG Warthogs sat silently, waiting for the moment where the rebels would allow us the right chance to use them. The chance hadn't come yet though, the snow got quite deep if nobody cleared it, and after the first few weeks nobody did. We were all too cold, and the raids kept us from sleeping. The walls of our tents were filled with bullet holes from the battles, smart idea High Command had to put canvas walls on every structure on a single frontline military base. Now we freeze our balls off every night where the temperature drops to thirty below zero, blankets can only do so much.

Im from Charybdis IX, an Outer Colony that is quite temperate. Three months away from my wife and daughter back in the capital of Scyllion really made me wish that I hadn't walked into the recruitment office. The Office of Naval Intelligence's propaganda made it seem that this war was in the UNSC's favor, when it was really a slow crawl just to deter the Insurrection from spreading to other colonies. Being twenty-two years old, recently married, and with our newborn daughter, I thought at the time that signing up would help pay for our cost of living. I wanted to keep my family safe from the people that had already claimed the lives of millions, I wanted adventure, and I wanted to help the UEG and the UNSC in their fight, _our_ fight.

That was three years ago.

Now im stuck away from home for months at a time, fighting a war where people die by the lot and the UNSC only sends a generic letter home to family saying how their loved one died a hero's death fighting for justice, liberty, and freedom, what a load of crap that was. Most people die out here from hidden explosives, snipers, suicide bombers, or mowed down by heavy machine guns. Very heroic.

I made my way through a section of tent-barracks, listening to the sound of men and women talking amongst themselves inside. Morale was pretty low, and the blizzards didnt help. You rarely saw anybody outside except sentries and people quickly darting from tent to tent, and everyone always wore thick layers underneath their winterized army battle dress uniform. The amount of clothing you needed to stay warm on Thern really affected your agility and speed in combat, if HIGHCOM supplied us with actual insulated uniforms, im sure our casualty rate would be _much _lower.

I worked my way up a small incline towards the entrance of what was our armory. A sudden gust of wind spun across my face, stinging my windburned cheeks with tiny ice crystals. I reached the top of the small mesa and stepped through the doorway. I was pleased to see the lights already on in the musty space, casting a yellow light over one of the only well-heated tents in the camp. I took off my winterized helmet and balaclava and smiled as I saw one of my squadmates already taking stock of the remainder of the camp's supplies. Mackenzie was crouched on the ground with a clipboard near a stack of crates, counting SPNKr missiles and whistling one of his made-up tunes. His jacket and assault rifle lay on another wooden crate nearby, dripping with melted ice and snow. The Scottish man saw me come in and waved me over.

"So now you decide to show up, ya little shite?" he said through a toothy grin.

"You know how much I love counting ammo," I replied sarcastically, placing my things next to his. I sighed as I sat down next to him, it wasn't often that I got to sit.

"Well you're about to cream your pants, I've been here for a feckin' hour and im still not done. Alot of ammunition for three weeks worth." Mackenzie said in his Scottish brogue, it was much easier to understand him than during basic, I'll tell you that. Back then I had to ask him to repeat himself alot, just to understand that he was asking me what time it was.

"Why are you complaining, would you rather be on sentry duty?" I replied back to him while opening a case of grenades. That shut him up.

Private Alexander Mackenzie and I met in basic training on Reach in 2521, and we have been friends ever since. His thick red hair and bushy beard is comparable to his always beat-red skin, not to mention is red hot attitude. He comes from Casbah on Tribute, where he saw action last month at a Jim Dandy restaurant, if you could believe it, when he went in with two squads of Marines as a guide. He was lightly injured as a bomb detonated in the restaurant and the group of Hornets went down. He only recently arrived on Thern with the last shipment of supplies, nearly a month ago. He was studying to be a teacher before he joined the army, which is surprising due to his vulgar language and lust for violence.

We always managed to keep our spirits up, though. I was placing a grenade back in it's case when I felt a strong arm wrap around my neck, making me gasp for air. Mackenzie started laughing as I struggled to breath, scrambling at my assalant's arm. I reached up and grabbed the attacker's wrist and twisted my body sideways, loosening his grip and allowing me to reach for my sidearm. I whipped it out of its holster and jammed it into the gut of my attacker, and instantly I was let go. Laughter erupted from the three of us as my attacker bared a white smile at me.

"Shit James, one of these days you're actually going to paint the wall with my guts," the big black man in front of me laughed.

"Or a feckin Innie will get the drop on you and you'll start laughing your arse off before he brains ya!" Mackenzie said as through bursts of laughter. I put my magnum back in its holster and walked over to the man in front of me.

"Maybe you should stop doing that Chris, im either getting better at escaping or you're just weak."

"Or im going easy on you," the muscular African-American said sardonically.

Private Christopher Valdez was a factory worker on Mars before he joined the Army. He is muscular, definitely above average of most troopers, always loving to play jokes on me and the rest of our squad. He was in a different company during basic, so Mackenzie and I didnt meet him until a conflict on Cyrus VII, where we were battling through a small settlement when Innies surprised us by rushing out of houses with a civilians as human shields. Chris was taking point with an M90 shotgun and took the head off of an Innie in front of him without hitting the woman hostage, and quickly pivoted and gutted an Innie in a nearby doorway and another enemy rifleman on a roof before rolling out of harms way as the firefight began. He's an artist with close quarters weapons, either that or he is extremely lucky that the spread of the shot didnt hit that woman. Either way, he is a great asset on the battlefield.

The three of us poked fun at each other for a few minutes before the door burst open and the bitter cold blew through the structure. Two figures stepped through the door, their faces hidden under their sunglasses and balaclavas. You could easily fry your eyes from the glare of the snow, so alot of people wore shades. I saw the single silver bar of a First Lieutenant glint in the light and I called "Group!" and Valdez, Mackenzie and I came to attention. The door closed as the two figures took off their headgear and approached us. First Lieutenant Cheng Li came right up to my face as I looked ahead, trying to stare me in the eye. A black smear on the wall was suddenly very interesting.

"Do you know how far your voices travel out here, Private Clarke?" the Lieutenant asked me in a low voice, his intense green eyes seemingly burning into the side of my face.

"Yes I do, Lieutenant sir!" I said, not knowing if he was trying to trick me into shouting, I replied in a slightly above-average volume.

"Innies lost in that blizzard could sure as well find their way here faster than you can clean this entire tent. Do you understand me?" the El-Tee said back to me in the same low, venomous voice.

"I understand, Lieutenant sir, wont happen again," I replied, not wanting this to go on.

"Good," the Asian officer said with a single nod as he took a pace back, "At ease, all of you."

First Lieutenant Li was in his early thirties and has been fighting with the UNSC for almost 16 years. He had fought on Chi Rho and Ariel during the Insurrectionist offensive of 2511. His entire squad was killed on Ariel and he single-handedly captured 6 Insurrectionists, winning him a Silver Star, a promotion to First Lieutenant, and allowing the UNSC to get valuable information from the captives regarding supply routes, black market contacts, and locations of strongpoints for future engagements. He was a hardass by nature, but people say he never got over the loss of his squad on Airel. I've seen him strum tunes on an old oriental style lyre, showing some of his Japanese roots. His jet black hair was always trimmed to regulation length, even in lulls of battle he always made sure he was looking his best. He was a good leader and knew what he was doing, which was good enough for me.

I looked at the second person who entered the room and saw our squad leader, Staff Sergeant Christian Rhodes, standing with arms crossed and mouthed 'Nice going' to me and smirked. I shrugged in reply. Rhodes has fought this war almost as long as Lieutenant Li, as his father fought since the war's beginning when it started in 2494. His father was discharged after a battle on Roost when he was hit in the lower back and paralyzed from the waist down. Rhodes is a good leader, well liked by us and the rest of the battalion. He is pretty laid back for a veteran, although he signed up when he was 16, making him only 7 years older than me. The UNSC has a hard time conscripting let alone getting able bodied volunteers, so most recruiters usually let it slide if you look old enough.

Lieutenant Li began talking again.

"I want you three and the Sergeant to begin loading up the Warthogs with as much ammunition and ordnance as possible, then haul ass over to the mess hall once you're done. HIGHCOM has given us a treat in our new situation and given us supplies and reinforcements, not to mention local fire support from the _Barcelona_," the oriental officer told us, "Also, with the recent death of Corporal Ramirez, your squad will be getting a new addition," he added, as we all took a moment to remember Ramirez, our squad's second in command who was killed by a sniper last month.

"Who is the new addition, sir?" Mackenzie asked.

"You will meet him later tonight, but for now he is helping to load the wounded onto Pelicans." Li responded impatiently.

"Another rookie, huh? I'll bet my ass his head catches a bullet in the next week," Valdez said with a disapproving look on his face.

"Nice enthusiasm. Really helping the mood here," Rhodes told Valdez with a hint of a sarcasm in his voice.

"If there is no more questions, cut the chatter and get to work!" the Lieutenant barked. We all gave quick salutes as Li put his balaclava, sunglasses, and helmet on and walked out of the weapons depot.

"That man has more friggle-fraggles of metal on his dress uniform than a feckin' welding shop. I wouldnt be surprised if he has more after this." Mackenzie told us.

"It would be hell at an airport," Valdez replied, picking up his shotgun and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Shut up and get to work, would you?" I said, not wanting to spend forever loading up the 'Hogs and making the brass wait. The last thing you wanted was officers pissed at you for not doing your job, and I wasn't really in the mood for having KP duty for the week.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, James" Mackenzie said defensively, retrieving his jacket and rifle.

I put my jacket and helmet on, grabbed a few extra magazines for my assault rifle and magnum out of a crate, then snatched a few grenades. I slung my assault rifle over and tossed a taped bunch of 7.62mm clips to Mackenzie.

"Here you go Mack, knowing your aim you'll need it," I jeered, getting a snort of laughter out of Valdez and Rhodes.

"Ah fuck you Clarke, you will need all the feckin' ammunition coming out of Misriah armories," the Scottish man replied.

We were lucky that we were getting reinforcements and resupplied, but I wondered why we were getting them now. A lot of good men and women succumbed to their wounds because command didn't want to waste resources on coming out here every few weeks to check up on us. Sure, Montgomery's crew tried hailing high command, even in-system friendly ships, but they were told to wait, every time. Something big must be happening if they decided to send in a frigate for 'local fire support' for our 'new situation', as Lieutenant Li put it.

"This war is fucking stupid sometimes," Valdez said while grabbing slugs for his shotgun, "Its been going on since last century and the UNSC has its head so far up its ass that it cant stop a bunch of cocksucking rebels. Hell, ONI has their super-human Spartans and even they cant fucking win it for us." He was ranting, but we were all tired of this war. I've been in it for only three years and I was sick of it. We all knew where he was coming from, but ranting wasn't required right now.

"Spartans aren't humans, Valdez, they are machines or aliens or somethin' like that," Mackenzie said while picking up a case of grenade launchers. The SPARTAN project was made by ONI to create "super soldiers" in power armor that could lift tanks, take bullets without stopping, and be stealthy while at it. Not a whole lot of people knew about them, as the Office of Naval Intelligence liked to keep their projects out of the light, but you could only hide so much when you have Spartans running around the battlefield.

"Aliens aren't real Mack. We've been in space for hundreds of years and we still haven't found any," I said. Now he was just being crazy.

"I will put my feckin' money on it they are," Mackenzie replied while walking towards the garage door Rhodes was manually opening.

"Five credits and its a deal," I called to him as I hefted my own crate. Mackenzie laughed and gave me a quick thumbs up before placing the grenade launchers in the Warthog outside, the light of Epsilon Eridani peeking through the open garage door, at least the blizzard had died down. Valdez was right behind him with two rocket launchers as I passed Rhodes.

"Aliens, what a joke," I said to the Sergeant, grinning as he shook his head and went to grab a crate. I exited the large door and looked towards the gate and saw the huge shape of the frigate _Barcelona_ sitting nicely in the open ground to the north, with it's bay doors open and pelicans constantly picking up wounded, ferrying new troopers to the camp, dropping off supplies and maintenance workers, and making Camp Overwatch alot busier than it had been for the past three months. I put my crate in the back of the warthog and leaned against the driver's side, watching the new activity around the camp. How did we miss this in the twenty minutes we were in the tent?

"Excuse me, are you Staff Sergeant Rhodes?" somebody asked me from behind.

I turned around and looked at a young man standing in front of me, holding his helmet under his arm. He stood somewhat taller, but I'm slightly shorter than most people. He was in his late teens or early twenties at most. His light blond hair was neatly trimmed to regulation length and had a clean shaven face, compared to my longer than regulation brown hair and my rough beard that was growing in. I really needed a shave.

"Uhm, no, but I'm in his squad," I said while removing my balaclava. "... and you are?"

"Specialist Sean O'Grady, i'm your replacement." the younger man said. He was a higher rank than me, a Specialist, but that rank didn't have any command. I doubt he had much, if any, combat experience. Rhodes, Valdez, and Mackenzie all approached with crates in hand, curious as to who the kid was.

"Who are you?" O'Grady asked, extending his hand in a handshake.

I took it and gave him a light smile, "Private First Class James Clarke, welcome to Charlie Squad."


	2. Chapter 2: Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 2: Calm Before The Storm

**1920 hours, August 23 2524, (Military Calendar)/  
>Camp Overwatch, Planet Thern<strong>

The evening meal began at 1900 hours, and you could feel the lifted spirits in the air.

The mess hall had been packed to its capacity of nearly 600 people, as many of the Marines, ODSTs, pilots, and navy crewmen had joined us. Usually the navy and we troopers don't mix well, but tonight everybody got along well. We had been stuck on this frozen rock for months, and they had been up in the void of space for an equal amount of time. Give us some good food and some friendly faces and we might as well have been family. The high-roofed mess hall was brimming with voices and laughter as we enjoyed our first good meal in months.

I shoved a big piece of potato into my mouth and I listened to the chatter around me. The cooks were dishing out good food tonight because of the supplies from the _Barcelona_, but everybody in the mess hall was aware of an upcoming operation – what it was, we didn't know.

Mackenzie sat across from me at our table, with our newest addition O'Grady between him and Sergeant Rhodes. Valdez sat beside me, poking fun at the rookie with Charlie Squad's demolitions expert, Private Gonzalo Santos. The Hispanic man from Madrigal had a surprising amount of combat experience, and had seen action on more worlds than I had. He is slightly hefty, but is as good with explosives as Valdez is with a shotgun. He had been on sentry duty when O'Grady had joined our squad, and so he had just met the blonde-haired kid tonight at dinner.

"So you're telling me that the rebels use giant reptiles as mounts?" O'Grady asked Santos with a furrowed brow.

"_Si_, they found the beasts on some uncolonized planet outside of the Outer Colonies," Santos replied, stroking his pencil-thin moustache. Valdez snickered but quickly silenced himself.

O'Grady looked between Santos and Valdez numerous times, "Are you serious?"

Valdez could no longer contain himself and burst into laughter, slamming his fist on the table numerous times, much to the chagrin of a group of Marines sitting at the end. Santos nearly fell out of his chair. O'Grady propped his head on his hand and picked at his food, embarrassed that he fell for something so ridiculous.

Rhodes nudged O'Grady, "Don't take it personally kid, it happens to all the new guys."

O'Grady nodded and sat up a bit. Valdez and Santos continued laughing and started going at each other. I looked over at the rookie and ran my hand through my longer-than-regulation length hair.

"So rook, whereabouts are you from?" I asked while piling another chunk of potato into my mouth.

O'Grady perked up a bit, "Earth. I live in Washington with my parents. Well, I did before joining the army. I nodded as I chewed on my food. Earth, the mother of all UNSC planets, had a huge concentration of inhabitants, likely one of the most populated planets in all of UNSC-controlled space. I had met hundreds of troopers and Marines that called Earth home, and they were among the most patriotic soldiers I had ever come across.

"I went there with my wife on our honeymoon. We stayed in New Mombasa. It's a nice place down there," I told O'Grady.

"And that's where little Madelaine was conceived, eh?" Mackenzie said with a grin.

"At least I get action, shithead," I snapped back. The rest of the squad laughed as Mackenzie's red face turned even redder. Mentioning my family made me miss them even more, and I soon found myself reflecting on everything up until now.

Jen and I had gotten married five years ago, but I have spent more time away from home in the past three years than I have ever been before. Maddy was only three years old, and I only get to be with her between tours of duty. It's sad, really, I have missed so much of her life already. We never got any kind of leave while on duty, but that was understandable. I know more than I few soldiers who would desert if they got the chance.

I had worked an office job in a city called Vicic on Charybdis IX before I joined up. One afternoon, a rebel bomb detonated a block away and shattered all the windows of our building. I rushed home to our apartment to check on Jen and the baby. The outlying cities were notorious for having rebel activity, and I knew that we had to move to a safer place. The best place I could think of was the capital of Scyllion, and so we put the apartment up for sale and three weeks later we were packed up and on our way to our new condominium.

It wasn't long before I realized that my sub-par resume would never get me a job in the competitive businesses in Scyllion. I searched for weeks without paying the rent or bills, and soon I became desperate. I found myself standing outside of the UNSC recruiting office, having little choice when it came to making ends meet. I thought about the explosion in Vicic and all the other bombings, shootings, and assassinations across the colonies. I could keep my family safe this way, and I could provide for them, too, I remember thinking to myself. And so I walked out of the recruitment office that day and prepared myself to join the 3rd Infantry Division, 6th Battalion of the UNSC Army. Little did I know I'd be fighting a losing battle on a barren planet years later. Maybe things would have been different that day. Maybe I wouldn't have signed those papers. Who knew.

I took a bit of ham from my plate and savored it in my mouth. I leaned back in my chair and continued to listen to the random jabber of the people around me. Santos was telling a story about some pilot on Reach when I noticed movement at the front of the mess hall, where a stage, hologram pedestal, and podium had been established in front of the kitchens. Colonel Montgomery usually addressed us two or three times a week, talking about issues around the camp and giving us some of the latest news from the other colonies. Talent shows were also performed - by virtually anybody who could do anything- every once in a while to help keep spirits high. Most of us came for the alcohol, but the talent was entertaining enough.

Colonel Montgomery, some of his staff, and Lieutenant Li stepped onto the stage. The lower ranking officers stood at attention, facing the crowd, as the Colonel approached the podium.

"Attention!" Lieutenant Li shouted. Everybody in the mess all shot up out of our seats and stared ahead. Mackenzie smirked as we stared into each other's eyes, flicking his tongue out of his mouth a few times trying to get a laugh out of me. I held it back, he could be pretty immature sometimes.

Colonel Montgomery cleared his throat.

"Please be seated everyone," the commanding officer said through the microphone, his distinct British accent resonating loudly through the speakers. We all sat down and faced the Colonel. He was wearing what everybody else was: standard army battle dress uniform, with his name "MONTGOMERY" stitched above his heart. He wore a black beret with the silver eagle that signified him as a Colonel. He sported a bushy blonde beard, and had piercing blue eyes. The Colonel was a tall man, and carried himself with confidence. He was very mellow and lighthearted around his men, but was a bitter and brilliant tactician on the battlefield. Apparently he was a descendant of the famous World War II commander Bernard Montgomery, very fitting if you ask me.

"Good evening everyone," he said, and hundreds of UNSC servicemen and women responded with an enthusiastic "Good evening, sir."

"I hope everyone is enjoying the food, courtesy of the _Barcelona,_" Montgomery said, getting a few cheers out of the crowd.

"I'd like to welcome all of our new recruits and everyone from the _Barcelona_, who ever so kindly brought us our goodies," the Colonel continued.

"I am aware of the rumours going around about the upcoming offensive operation, and I am here to shed some light on the current situation. Our scouts, and aerial reconnaissance drones from the _Barcelona _have located the Insurrectionist stronghold on Thern." A giant hologram of Thern appeared on a pedestal in front of the Colonel. It zoomed in to a satellite image taken from the _Barcelona_, showing a large circular structure filled with what looked like buildings.

The satellite image enhanced further to show dozens of buildings inside of this ring, and several images taken from the recon drones panelled out around the satellite image.

Montgomery continued, "Tomorrow morning we will be heading up an all-out assault on this stronghold and end the fight on Thern within the next forty-eight hours. Ground forces will be assisted by the Marines and ODSTs from the _Barcelona, _as well as an entire squadron of air units."

Everyone in the mess hall murmured amongst themselves. How could the Colonel spring this on us so suddenly? An offensive operation like this usually took weeks, even months of planning.

"Spring it quickly and there will be an incredibly small window for this information to reach the Innies," Rhodes said, as if he was reading my mind. I understood what he was saying. I had no doubts that there were rebels among our ranks, although the UNSC was generally good at rooting them out. In an assembly this large, though, there was bound to be a couple soldiers who had ties to the rebels. Tell us on such short notice and there would be virtually no time for the news of an offensive attack to reach the Innies.

Montgomery raised his hand to silence the crowd, "Lieutenant Li?"

The Japanese officer stepped towards the front of the stage, "Intel shows that the Innies have their stronghold, what appears to be a whaling station, heavily fortified with air and artillery support. It is estimated that they have a force of around sixteen-hundred strong. To compensate for their superior numbers, Sixth Battalion will attack from the east with Warthogs and Scorpion tanks from the _Barcelona_. The air squadron will provide air support during the attack. The ODSTs and Marines will hit from the north, break their rear lines and draw some fire from the frontal assault." The image of the whaling station displayed arrows along the assault routes.

The hologram disappeared into the air beside Lieutenant Li, "Once inside, every building must be searched. You are clear to fire upon anything that is non-UNSC. Pelicans will be inbound for extraction back to Camp Overwatch once the entire stronghold is cleared."

Montgomery spoke through the microphone again, "If this goes as planned, we will be on the boat home in three days." Now that got everybody cheering. We were all so desperate to get off of this rock, and anything that could get us closer to home would be graciously accepted. I couldn't wait any longer to get home and see my family, so right now I was down for anything.

"Everybody get a good night's rest and be ready to move out at oh-five hundred," Montgomery said. "Give 'em hell, ladies and gentlemen."

The Colonel and his staff stepped down from the stage and everybody turned back to their tables, the noise level much higher than it was before. Every single person, army or navy, was talking about tomorrow's operation.

"We get to go home, boys!" Valdez cheered. We all smiled at the thought of going home. I hadn't seen Jen or Maddy in almost four months, not even letters. I missed them terribly.

"Easy Valdez, we still have a fight ahead of us and it ain't going to be a walk in the park," Rhodes told the muscular African-American.

"It's going to be even harder if somebody fucks up," Santos said nonchalantly.

O'Grady looked around at us nervously, "So… we're going in to combat tomorrow?"

"What, have you never been in combat before, rook?" I asked O'Grady. The young man hesitantly shook his head.

Valdez leaned back in his chair, "Just don't lose your head, kid, and always expect something to go wrong. You'll be prepared for it then."

"Stop scaring the feckin' kid Valdez, this is his baptism of fire," Mackenzie said in an understanding voice.

"Yeah Valdez, don't be an asshole," Santos added.

Valdez glared at Santos, "Shut up you prick, I'm not being an asshole. I'm giving the kid some life-saving advice, here."

"Quiet, all of you," Rhodes snapped, jumping in before things got out of hand. "Everyone finish eating, check over your gear, then get to bed. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

We finished our dinner and talked amongst ourselves for a bit before returning to our squad's tent. I jumped onto my top bunk, took apart and cleaned every part of my assault rifle and magnum and checked over my battle dress uniform and its few pieces of battered combat armor.

I placed everything in my locker opposite the bunk bed and returned to my bed, wrapping myself in layers of blankets. Mack had finished before me and was fast asleep in the bed beneath mine. His breathing joined chorus with the rest of my squadmates' snoring, aside from O'Grady, who had occupied Ramirez's top bunk beside mine. The rookie had similarly wrapped himself in blankets and was staring up at the ceiling, a cloud of breath billowing from his mouth and into the cold air.

"It's cold," the rookie said.

I shut my eyes and rolled over, "You get used to it. Well, I guess you won't."

The Specialist didn't respond for a couple minutes. I was on the edges of sleep when his voice snapped me out of it, "Are you scared of dying?"

I opened one eye and stared at the tent wall. How could I answer that? I didn't want to die, but I had accepted the fact that it could happen at any time, and there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to be honest with the kid, but I didn't want him to lose sleep over it, either.

I shut my eyes again, "Go to sleep, rook."

The kid rolled over and curled up into a ball. I honestly hoped that tomorrow's hellstorm would finally bring about the end of things hear on Thern, and the kid would make it through alright.

I could only hope.


	3. Chapter 3: If Everything Goes As Planned

Chapter 3: If Everything Goes As Planned...

**0500 hours, August 24 2524, (Military Calendar)/  
>Camp Overwatch, Planet Thern<strong>

Today was the big day.

I sat with Mackenzie on top of a small snowbank, a short distance away from the motorpool. The sun had crested the horizon and washed Camp Overwatch with an orange glow amidst the frigid temperatures of the arctic wasteland. Long wisps of snow snaked and drifted over the ground, the icy crystals catching the rising sun in their intricate patterns. The sparkling crystals swirled around my boots, before whisking off to their next destination.

I pulled my balaclava up higher on my face and took in the sights of the camp before me. Hundreds of troopers rushed around the camp, carrying ammunition and weapons, mustering their squadmates, reading over papers, and checking the various components of Warthogs and Scorpion tanks. The _Barcelona_ had landed a short distance away in the ice plains to the northwest, and I could make out the Marines and ODSTs similarly preparing for the assault on the rebel stronghold.

Our squad's replacement, O'Grady, was under the hood of one of our squad's two Warthogs, with Santos watching him like a hawk. The engine hadn't been working properly since one of the hydrogen lines began to leak a while back. Santos had been working on it for a while but didn't have the know-how to fix it properly. We would have gotten it fixed, hadn't the repair shop gone sky-high when a mortar went through its roof. The kid was our new tech specialist, and an apparent whiz kid when it came to anything that could be taken apart or assembled.

It was winter on Thern, making the arctic desert much colder than it was during the rest of the year, if you could believe it. Everybody had several layers underneath their winterized battle dress uniforms, or BDUs. Add the pieces of combat armour on top of that, and everybody looked twenty pounds heavier. I smirked, I don't think twenty pounds was an exaggeration with all the clothing we wore. I looked beside me at Mackenzie, who took slow drags of his cigarette and held the smoke in his mouth, watching it slowly trail out of his mouth and into the early morning air.

"I dun' believe that ya' don't smoke by now, Clarke," Mackenzie said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

I shrugged and planted my MA5B into the snowbank, "You'll be wishing you were me when your teeth are yellow and your breath makes people puke." I pulled down my balaclava and stuck out my lip, "Oh, too late."

Mackenzie picked up a fistful of snow and slammed it into my exposed face, "Talkin' about yourself, Clarke?"

"I was just kidding," I said, spitting out snow and wiping my face with my gloved hand.

"If you ladies are done having your snowball fight, we have a war to fight," Rhodes called to us from the motorpool. He had just returned from a final briefing by Colonel Montgomery. Mackenzie took a long pull from his cigarette and shoved the remaining butt into the snow.

"Shall we?" the Scotsman said, milky smoke shooting from his mouth. We took our weapons out of the snow and jogged over to the mass of troopers in the motorpool, most of whom were getting into their 'Hogs and Scorpion tanks.

Santos was waiting in the driver's seat, one arm over the wheel, "Glad you boys could make it. It's gonna' be one hell of a ride and I could sure use the company."

Mackenzie hopped into the passenger's seat, "Wouldn't miss it."

I scrambled up onto the LAAG turret and racked the heavy machine gun. The Light Anti-Aircraft Gun of the M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicle, or 'Warthog', could tear through almost anything unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it. Although the vehicle bounced you around as much as the operating turret did, it basically destroyed anything that you pointed it at. Some of the other 'Hogs had gauss cannons equipped, but I personally thought that the high-tech cannons were too much of a hassle to operate and were unreliable against large numbers of infantry.

I looked over at the Warthog to our right and got a thumbs-up from Valdez sitting at the steering wheel. O'Grady cautiously entered the passenger seat and nervously clenched his assault rifle, getting a bit of a chuckle out of Rhodes, leaning on the other 'Hogs LAAG.

At exactly 0500 hours, sixty-six Warthogs and a dozen Scorpion tanks roared to life, and the same could be heard across the ice plain towards the _Barcelona_, as the Marines and ODSTs prepared to join in the assault. Colonel Montgomery and his staff emerged from their headquarters, seeing us off as they prepared to move to a Forward Operating Base, or FOB, once the area had been cleared.

In stark contrast to the somber salutes from the Colonel and his staff, whooping and cheering troopers sped through the front gates of Camp Overwatch and merged with the portion of Marines joining us in the frontal assault.

Dozens of vehicles racing across the arctic wasteland, kicking up ice, rock, and snow as they went, was quite a sight to see. I would hate to be one of the guys rolling out the welcome mat for us at the whaling station. A group of Hornets flew overhead, giving us a bit of air support. Even if the Innies had us outnumbered, we made up for it in sheer firepower.

We traveled to the east in silence for half an hour, parallel to the escarpment until the ridge smoothed out and allowed us passage to the coastline. As we spread out for the time being, the noise died down, allowing Rhodes to communicate with us over the SQUADCOM.

"Listen up Charlie Squad," Rhodes' voice crackled over the COM, "You know what this show is about, but I'll say it one more time to make sure you haven't lost it overnight. Our frontal assault from the east will smash through their primary defenses to get us close to the walls. We are going to do everything we can to break through those walls, as I'm sure the Innies aren't going to let us march through their front door. The Sixteenth Marine Regiment and the Hundred and Fifth Oh-Dee-Ess-Tees will sweep in from the north and relieve some of the fire congestion from us. When we get out of the 'Hogs, keep your head down, and don't do anything stupid. Clear?"

"Clear," we all responded in unison.

"Do we have any artillery support?" Santos asked.

"Yeah, the boys and girls from the Three Sixty Seventh Field Artillery flew in last night and set up shop thirty five klicks from the whaling station. That is Rally Point Alpha. They are going to soften up the stronghold's defenses before the cavalry comes in. If shit hits the fan, that is our fallback point. Hopefully we can get the job done before nightfall," Rhodes answered.

The people down in the 367th Field Artillery have always stuck with the 3rd Infantry in almost every engagement we were involved with. They do a superb job pounding the hell out of the Innies with their howitzers. 35 kilometers out was nothing for them, they could execute pinpoint accurate strikes from more than 100 kilometers. It was no myth that they were effective up to 600 kilometers. That's impressive.

"What do we do once we get inside?" I asked.

"Don't get killed," Rhodes answered sardonically.

"Do we ever take prisoners?" O'Grady inquired.

"Hell no, I'm killing every Innie I see," Valdez chuckled. He hated the rebels with a passion, and was not alone on that notion.

"If there are survivors in the end, yeah. Just be careful to search them thoroughly, they aren't afraid of dying and taking you down with them," Rhodes replied.

We traveled in silence for a long time. We were speeding along at close to 110 kilometers an hour, giving us ample time to reach the stronghold. Overnight preparations were highly effective, as the rebel recon drones had been shot down in the dark by some of the _Barcelona_'s wing of Air Force boys and girls, and the 367th Field Artillery had set up quickly and effectively.

It was 0633 when the E-Band crackled to life.

_"This is Zulu X-Ray four-niner_ _of the Three Sixty Seventh Field Artillery. Innies have hit Rally Point Alpha hard with heavy artillery and aircraft_. _Large amount of enemy air units inbound to your position. I repeat, Insurrectionists have attacked Rally Point Alpha, cannot hold this position, immediate assistance is required," _the static-filled voice yelled. The emergency frequency was broadcast to anybody who could pick it up, and at this distance, if we could hear it, the Innies could too. They knew their attack had succeeded.

"Feck me sideways," Mackenzie cursed from the front seat.

"Our artillery is _gone?_" O'Grady asked in a low voice.

"Sounds like it, we better get there quicktime to find out," Rhodes responded sharply.

Santos cut in hesitantly, "Wait... didn't he say something about enemy air units?"

Just then, my stomach did a backflip.

"On the horizon!" a trooper shouted over TACCOM, our fighting force's communication channel.

I looked over the top of the machine gun and swallowed hard. Dozens of Pelicans, Hornets, Falcons, and a handful of SkyHawks, approached our contingent at a high speed. All of them were outfitted with heavier weapons than the standard-issue 20mm cannons of our Hornets.

"Enemy fast-movers inbound! Give it to 'em!" a Captain screamed over the TACCOM.

"Shit!" I yelled, as I squeezed the trigger of the LAAG. Dozens of other machine guns joined their steady roar with mine, meeting the rebel aircraft with a wall of lead. Their two leading Hornets fell under our combined fire, and the Falcon directly behind began pouring smoke and flames out of the fuselage.

Warthogs in the front of our formation went up in flames as the Insurrectionists unleashed a salvo of rockets. Our assault group tightened as we were bottlenecked into a large valley where the enemy aircraft could tear us apart. Santos swerved to avoid a Falcon tumbling through our ranks, and barely missed another Warthog trying to evade the wreck as well. Our Hornets and Scorpions opened up on the approaching craft. Four more of the rebel aircraft fell under the Hornet's fire, but the enemy was upon us.

I fired at a Pelican ahead of us, but its armor was too thick, even for the armor-penetrating rounds of the LAAG. The rebel pilots gave us a shmorgishborg of explosive rounds, rockets, and armor-piercing bullets in retaliation to their losses. It must have taken them months to accumulate that much armour and armaments to outfit their aircraft, and they did not take their losses lightly. By the time they had finished their first pass, we had gone from 66 to 59 Warthogs, and only 7 Hornets remaining. I couldn't even count the number of Scorpions remained.

"Hey O'Grady, is this according to plan?" I shouted over the SQUADCOM. The kid was hanging on to the sides of his seat for dear life.

"Shut your feckin' mouth, and shoot!" Mackenzie screamed.

The rebel aircraft came back on a second pass and ripped into us from behind. The burning remains of both side's vehicles lay in the snowy canyon in the behind us. Many Warthogs and a pair of Scorpion tanks went up in flames, although our Hornets were able to evade the fire. I spun the LAAG around and fired into the underbellies of the rebel aircraft as they passed overhead, to no avail. Our formation was thinning and we had to act quickly. We were running out of guns and the assault would be a failure if we didn't get rid of this rebel counteroffensive.

"Troopers, grab grenade launchers if you have 'em, take these birds out of the sky," Lieutenant Li yelled over the TACCOM.

I quickly looked down and saw a crate labeled "M319 IGL", the grenade launchers we had packed. They had an EMP round that if, you had a good shot, could shut down any vehicle.

"Mackenzie, O'Grady, grab a grenade launcher and take down those birds before they tear into us!" Rhodes shouted over the SQUADCOM. Mackenzie and the rookie took grenade launchers out of the back of their Warthogs and loaded EMP grenades into them. We were closer to the front of the formation and protected by the right wall of the canyon, so we were relatively protected until the aircraft spotted us firing EMP rounds.

The enemy aircraft were ripping into our middle ranks when O'Grady and Mackenzie fired their grenade launchers simultaneously. Both troopers found their mark with a Falcon and a Pelican, respectively. Blue static washed over the pair of aircraft, and they tumbled to the ground behind our ranks. We all cheered in victory. Seconds later, EMP rounds filled the air as other troopers and Marines brought down scores of rebel aircraft. Mackenzie handed off a grenade launcher with a smile to the driver of the next 'Hog. The Marine hesitantly reached out between our two vehicles and took the weapon, doing a double take at the lunatic handing him a gun at more than one hundred kilometers an hour. That's Mack for you.

The Innies were significantly thinned out, but they still proved to be relentless. Our weakened formation streamed out of the valley with the rebel aircraft hot on our heels.

"Good work people. Keep it up, this show hasn't even started," Rhodes shouted in a gruff voice over SQUADCOM. I realized that I might not make it out of this, and I would never see Jen or Maddy again. I shook my head and realized that we were still in relatively good shape, and the NAV marker showed that we only had another 10 kilometers until we reached Rally Point Alpha.

That's when the good news came. The TACCOM came to life once more.

"All UNSC ground units, this is Commander Anthony Martino of the UNSC _Barcelona_. We have a clear area with minimal risk of friendly fire. Longsword fighters inbound to your position. Hang on to your asses, ladies and gents."

I bent down and gave Mackenzie a highfive and slapped Santos on the side of his helmet. I turned around to see sleek, black objects streaking down from the sky. Longswords were the black, streamlined fighter craft of the UNSC Navy. They could easily rip through the enemy aircraft, with or without reinforced armor. A dozen Longswords tore into the rear of the rebel aircraft, our own Hornets rising in altitude to avoid the fire. We watched as two dozen enemy aircraft fell out of the sky and smashing into the icy wasteland below.

"_This is Lima two-three, enemy air units neutralized, returning to the Barcelona. Give 'em hell, boys,_" the Wing Commander of the Longswords said over the COM.

I cringed as my helmet was filled with whoops and hollers. The celebration was quickly quelled by the officers and Sergeants, with threats of KP duty for a week for any man who spoke over the TACCOM without authorization. Under any other circumstances, the punishment would have been much more severe, but we were in the middle of an offensive and nobody really gave a damn about what the officers said.

I looked over at Rhodes and gave me a thumbs-up. I returned the gesture and continued to watch the skies in case the Innies got a little brave.

The smoking remains of Rally Point Alpha were visible in the distance. The Innies had hit them hard; I just hoped that they would be able to do their job. Lieutenant Li's Warthog pulled ahead of the others and gunned it off into the distance, definitely pushing the 'Hog's engine to its capacity.

A minute later the Japanese officer spoke over the TACCOM, "All units, be advised, you have friendlies coming up ahead, do not engage. Stop and dismount at the Rally Point."

I checked my mission clock, it was almost 8 o'clock. The sun was up, reflecting its intense rays off the snow and into my eyes to compliment my bad sunburn. I pulled my sunglasses out of their pouch and put them on, tucking the arms under my helmet. I never would have guessed that someone would need so much protection from the sun on an arctic planet.

"Alright boys, get ready to dismount," Rhodes said over the COM. We pulled up to Rally Point Alpha, or what remained of it. The entire Rally Point had been hastily leveled to give the howitzers and self-propelled guns a flat and stable surface to deploy on. A large mound of snow faced the rebel base in the far distance, the barrels of the artillery pieces resting on top. Rows upon rows of gun emplacements, most surrounded by sandbags, dotted the Rally Point. Several metal buildings had been erected to serve as command and radio posts. We parked our Warthogs in the area where tents and campfires had been set up. However, the scene of the well, but quickly, constructed base was much different.

Howitzers and self-propelled guns were nothing more than smoking remains. Dead bodies lay everywhere in the Rally Point, many resting the bottom of the blackened craters created by the enemy artillery. Munitions had exploded and destroyed all but one of the metal buildings, the remaining one barely standing. The injured moaned and screamed as the survivors tended to their wounds in vain.

Mackenzie took off his helmet, "Jesus Christ…"

The sight of hundreds of dead and wounded men and women scattered on the charred ground has forever been burned into my memory. How could people do this to each other? Them to us, and us to them. We fought wars, sure, but the Insurrectionists were different. They killed the innocent. That is what set the rebels apart from the soldiers.

Pelicans swooped down from the _Barcelona_, hovering in low orbit. I helped Santos carry a stretcher bearing a woman who had both her legs blown off. She wasn't unconscious, she just stared up into the sky with an expressionless look on her face, trembling in the cold.

"Hang in there, we're getting you some help," Santos said to the wounded artillery woman. We loaded her into the bay of a Pelican, along with several other wounded, to be treated by the medics on their way up to the medical bay in the _Barcelona. _

We walked back through the camp and assisted in whatever way we could. Lieutenant Li and the other officers talked on their COMs while organizing the medevac. The assault on the stronghold would be delayed, giving the Innies time to adjust their defenses accordingly. So much for the element of surprise.

Once we had finished loading the wounded on to Pelicans, I found my way back to our Warthog. I leaned against the side of the vehicles and took my helmet off. I ran my hand through my hair and slumped down to the ground. I sat there for twenty minutes, with my assault rifle across my lap, listening to the crackling of a burning Wolverine.

"You alright?" a voice asked to my left. I looked up at Valdez, shotgun hefted over his shoulder.

"Yeah, just… stressed, that's all," I responded, running my hand along the length of my MA5B.

The CQB specialist chuckled, "Aren't we all?"

"That could be us, man," I said, nodding at the rows of dead laid out in front of the metal building. "I don't know how much more of this goddamn war I can take. I need to get home to my family."

"Well sitting around isn't going to make that come any faster. This is war, man. People kill, and people die. That's the way it always has and always will be. You've gotta' remember that you're not the only one in this," Valdez said, looking off in to the distance.

I sighed, "Yeah, you're right."

"Here, let's go. We've got places to go and people to see," Valdez said, offering me his hand and helping me to my feet. He clapped me on my shoulder before he walked over to his Warthog and hopped in to the driver's seat.

I put my helmet on and climbed on to the LAAG. Valdez was right. I signed up for the army to protect my family, to keep the people who had killed so many of my friends away from the ones I love. I wouldn't let my family or my friends down.

At 0845, we had gotten the rest of the wounded evacuated to the _Barcelona_ and had been given a casualty report. 11 Warthogs and 3 Hornets were destroyed in the air attack, a total of 41 men and women killed. 288 people were killed and 167 wounded in the attack on Rally Point Alpha, wiping out almost all of our artillery support. Some of the survivors who hadn't been gravely injured volunteered to stay behind to man the artillery pieces that could still be used. God, I had no idea what we'd do without the boys and girls in the 367th Field Artillery. By 0900, we had mounted up and began our final push to the whaling station.

I couldn't sit around and feel sorry for myself, I had family to get home to.


	4. Chapter 4: Taking Care of Business

Chapter 4: Taking Care of Business

**0905 hours, August 24 2524, (Military Calendar)/  
>Near Rally Point Alpha, Planet Thern<strong>

Everyone was quiet.

Not a single person in our entire vehicle group spoke a word. We were all shaken after leaving our dead and wounded friends from the 367th Artillery to be carried away by our navy birds. I could still see their already pale, cold, expressionless faces staring blankly at me. Men and women of all ages, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, friends... all gone, never to return again. We all felt that we could have done something to get there faster, and we felt anger towards the commanders in low orbit not noticing it sooner. I thought, what if that was me? What would happen to my family?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when my helmet mic crackled to life.

"How did the Insurrectionists get those aircraft ? They were a heck of alot better than ours, thats for sure" O'Grady spoke over the SQAUDCOM. We had left what remained of Rally Point Alpha less than 5 minutes ago and the kid was already talking. I knew part of it was nervousness, but I also knew that he was inexperienced and actually had questions. It was kind of comforting, we were all pretty somber after the sight of Rally Point Alpha, and the idea of having to face a well-defended enemy in a fortified stronghold without artillery support, who outnumbered us by almost 400 and knew we were coming. It was going to be a long day.

"They raid our spaceports and orbital elevators every once and a while and take whatever they can get their hands on. Alot of Innies are former UNSC members, so don't be surprised that they have people that can fly aircraft and make them superior to ours, not to mention that they can train others" Staff Sergeant Rhodes said. He was knowledgeable about these things due to his decade and a half of combat experience, after all.

"Well then, why doesn't the UNSC make our craft better?" O'Grady inquired from the passenger seat of the other warthog.

"Because the big boys and girls up in high command can't afford to. Might as well pump out as many as they can make and just make up for it in sheer numbers." Valdez responded this time as he kept the other warthog parallel to ours.

The sun was blazing down on the snow covered badlands as we whipped along the coast of Thern's ocean, making driving a bit difficult for Santos even with sunglasses on. The weather cleared up completely, not even a little bit of wind. It was still pretty fucking cold though.

Our group of warthogs, tanks, and hornets went over a small, smooth ridge. As we came over the top I saw what must be our objective less than 5 klicks away, the whaling station, and my mouth dropped only to be caught in my balaclava. You could only see so much from a satellite image.

"Holy shit..." Santos muttered. He spoke for all of us.

My first reaction was the walls. They were huge, at least fifty feet tall, made out of battleship plates of A-Grade Titanium. There was no way we could blast through that with the supplies we had. As we started to level out I enhanced the zoom on my helmet monocle and got a closer look at the side of the structure we were assaulting. Boardwalks lined the top of the pentagon-shaped encampment and housed multiple .50 calibre machine guns and missle pod launchers. I'm sure they have them on all sides of the whaling station, including the side facing the little harbor they were situated in. I enhanced the zoom a bit more to get a good look at the entrance. I saw many sandbag walls and metal machine gun bunkers along the sides and every dozen meters in the the middle of what I assumed to be an ice road leading into the stronghold. I wanted to see if they were preparing their defenses but the bounce of the warthog was too much and I couldn't focus it correctly. We'd have to make do with what Intel we had.

I cursed Montgomery and the rest of his staff for not gather enough information and putting together this hasty assault. A rumor was going around that he was beginning to suffer from cabin fever and wasn't thinking straight, but even if that was the case he could hide it well. We all wanted to go home, this "battle" on Thern was nothing more than just getting the shit kicked out of us by Innie raids and stumbling around in blizzards trying to find them, until now of course. My desire to go home was more intense than the disappointment with command, so I pushed it to the back of my head and concentrated on the battle ahead.

"Alright boys, this is it. We take the whaling station and we will be on our way home by tomorrow night" Rhodes spoke over the SQUADCOM. "Keep your heads down, stick together, and watch each others backs". We all joined in with acknowledgement to the sergeant's orders. We trusted his judgement, and we knew what we had to do. I'm sure squad leaders were giving similar pep talks to their squads as well. Just then, a thought popped into my head.

"O'Grady, how many years have you been in service?" I asked the newcomer.

"If you want to include basic training, a year and a half" the young man spoke proudly.

"And your training was what, 14 months long?" Mackenzie said.

"Well I was stationed aboard the Quito Space Tether on Earth until I came here..." O'Grady said with a bit less enthusiasm.

I banged my head lightly on the LAAG a few times. The kid had never been in combat. Great.

Rhodes was already on it, the saint that he is.

"O'Grady, stick with the squad at all times. Make sure you keep your wits about you, and stick with your gut feeling. Do that, and you'll get through this in one piece" Rhodes said in a confident tone.

"Yes Staff Sergeant !" O'Grady spoke loudly. He did have enthusiasm. How much longer that would last, I do not know.

Our armored group was less than two and a half kilometers away now, and with my optical zoom I could already see figures mustering at the stronghold.

I saw Lieutenant Li's warthog a few meters away from ours, and he was sitting in the passenger seat talking on his helmet mic, most likely on a private COM channel with Commander Martin and Colonel Montgomery. He stopped talking, turned to the driver of his Warthog and said something to him, then his voice came over the TACCOM.

"All units, this is Lieutenant Li, approaching objective, prepare for engagement. Good luck, Li out" the asian officer said. We were coming up on the stronghold now, less than two kilometers from the walls.

"This is it !" Rhodes shouted. Santos made the sign of the cross, and muttered a quick prayer. He was Catholic, although I didn't really believe in any of that stuff. Whatever help him keep at ease is fine with me.

Mackenzie spun around in his seat.

"Ready to kick some Innies in the arse?" he shouted.

"Ready as i'll ever be" I said with a grin he couldn't see through my balaclava.

Just then, for the second time that day, my stomach flipped.

"INCOMING!" Valdez screamed.

I heard the sound of the air ripping, followed by the deathly scream of artillery shells raining from above. Explosions went off all around us as the Innies fired on us with their mortars. A few warthogs went up in flames in our group as the bombardment came down. A hornet was clipped between the wing and the cockpit, ripping its innards out and sending it crashing to its icy doom.

I gripped the turret tightly as Santos accelerated, braked, and swerved to avoid the artillery and the burning remains of our allies. I looked up and my face twisted with horror as I saw a shell arcing right for us. I tried to shout to Santos to gun it but it was already too late.

Everything happened in slow motion. One minute I was on the turret of our 'Hog, next minute I was lying face-first on the icy ground. I tried to push myself up but I could only lift my head. My vision was blurry and colorless, and all I could hear was an intense ringing. I started laughing. It was like one of those old black and white movies that only had music and text, except the music was the ringing and the text wasn't there.

I looked around and saw our warthog on it's side, missing the turret, dented, charred, virtually useless. I pushed myself up with my hands and sat back on my knees. Warthogs were racing by, trying to avoid us, and I could see the black and white figures of troopers engaging the Insurrectionists at the entrance, with warthogs, scorpion tanks, and hornets moving everywhere. Explosions still rained down up ahead as the Innies adjusted their fire. I laughed some more. I don't know what was so funny. The ringing suddenly started to fade as a rushing noise filled my ears, and color started to fill back into my vision. I blinked as the world returned to me and I regained my senses.

Warthogs were zooming by and the first thing I did was get up and dive next to the remains of our 'Hog. The dive hurt, and I had a bit of trouble breathing, but that wasn't my main concern. I sat up next to the chasis of our vehicle. I looked around for my assault rifle and couldn't see it anywhere. I cursed to myself.

My hand reached down to my thigh and I felt a bit of relief as my magnum was still sitting nicely in its holster. My helmet was gone, so I had no way of contacting my squad. My eyes widened as I remembered Santos and Mackenzie in the warthog with me. I got up and eased around the 'Hog, praying to whatever god that I wouldn't find the bodies of my squadmates. I was both thankful and worried that they weren't there. I pulled my magnum out of it's holster and took the safety off.

Time to get busy.

I ripped off my balaclava, exposing my rough beard that was growing in. I must've looked like a wildman running through the field of explosions, unkempt hair, rough beard, no helmet, only a magnum in hand. I felt pretty badass, in light of it all.

I covered the half kilometer in less than five minutes at a full sprint. Adrenaline was pumping through me. By the time I got there, hundreds of army troopers and marines were hunkered down behind any cover they could find. I slid beside a few marines and an army trooper as they were in cover behind a snow barrier that kept the snow from falling onto the road that ran around the north side of the structure. They were pinned down by a heavy fifty in an MG nest on the battlements of the whaling station. It almost reminded me of a castle.

I turned to the marine with a rocker launcher beside me, a woman around my age. She raised her eyebrows at me, quite shocked at the state I was in.

"You alright trooper? You're pretty banged up!" she shouted. Bullets whistled all around us.

"I'm alright, now is not the time! Whats going on here?" I shouted back.

"Fucking MG has got us pinned down! Same thing is going on all along this front! We can't move our tanks in until we take out those missle pods, and the assholes up there wont let us do our fucking job!" she shouted back as she ducked down when a bullet came a bit too close to her.

Similar things happened on Cyrus VII. Machine guns would have us pinned down from a heavily fortified position, but we knew what to do if the conditions were right. We couldn't just fire our rocket launchers as we pleased, by the time you stood up, got your target, and fired, you'd be dead. It was all in the timing.

I risked a quick glance over the barrier and saw the fifties spaced out every 20 meters or so, all concentrating on one field of fire. I grinned as I noted this fatal error. They didn't have overlapping fields of fire, so if they were going to cover each other, they couldnt now because they could be exposing themselves from their front.

"Wait for the reload! I'll give you the signal, and when I tell you, blow those bastards to kingdom come!" I shouted.

The marine nodded as I waited for the quick break in the fire. I knew they had guys up there with M6Js or some other kind of light arms ready to cover the guy reloading, but they would go down too if we got this right.

I heard the fire stop and the small arms open up in our small section.

"NOW!" I screamed.

The woman pivoted and within seconds fired a 90mm explosive rocket towards the MG nest. An explosion followed by silence in our little slice of wall ensued. I poked my head up for a split second and didn't get it blown off.

I vaulted over the barrier and trudged through the snow. I had to give it to the Innies for having good ideas for defense. They wanted Thern so that they could supply themselves with oil. Not a bad idea for them.

I reached the wall with a dozen other marines and army troopers. I looked up and saw the nose of a missle pod sticking out.

"Anybody have tape by any chance?" I asked. An army trooper tossed me a roll of duct tape. Why he had it, I dont know, but im glad he did. I nodded in thanks.

I pulled four grenades off of my belt and put them in one hand. I wrapped the tape around the cluster and pulled the pin on one. I tossed it up as hard as I could and prayed it didn't roll back down. An explosion went off and the missle pod teetered off it's ledge, followed by a few bits and pieces of human flesh. I was a pitcher for my highschool baseball team, so throwing was my forté. The missle pod landed in the snow a few feet away.

The female marine went over and picked it up. She was pretty strong.

"We could blast our way in" she shouted with a sinister tone.

The sound of battle still raged all around, but I managed to smile. She was more than just a pretty face.

I gave her the thumbs up and directed everyone to back up. With no overlapping fields of fire, we only had to worry about small arms.

The marine unleashed a fury of missles into the titanium wall. 8 feet of metal was crunched and destroyed by the concentration of explosions. The marine dropped the missle pod and inspected the hole. We rushed over and I surveyed her handiwork. It was big enough for us to fit through.

I scrunched up and walked through first, making sure to keep my magnum ready.

We came through on the other side in a hallway. I looked both ways. Clear. I motioned everyone through and realized that more soldiers were coming through than originally. I guess they saw our hole and came over to our section. By now troopers and marines were running in both directions down the dark hallway. I went to the right towards a door at the end, along with three dozen others. A corporal pushed open the double doors and was greeted with automatic fire to the torso. His body spasmed in the light and he collapsed to the ground, his body wedging the door open.

I leveled my magnum as two Innies walked through the door with SMGs at the ready. I pulled off three shots, two hit the one on the left in the chest, downing him, and the other clean through the head. People rushed pass and opened the doors, with gunfire erupting outside as more and more people filed out. I was one of the last to go through the doors and into the courtyard of the whaling station.

The inside was huge. Buildings everywhere, like a little city. The entrance was along the wall to my right, three hundred meters away. Innies were getting caught by surprise as our forces got them from behind, allowing our warthogs and tanks to roll through.

Marines and troopers ran up flights of stairs on the walls to reach the battlements, were more gunfire was heard as they eliminated the Innies manning the MGs and missle pods. The sun glared down on the courtyard and created a very bright environment. I lost my sunglasses in the crash and had to squint.

I ran to a small building and took cover behind it, as others were doing the same all over, returning fire to the Innies ahead. Bodies lay everywhere, both friendly and enemy. The snow was stained with blood. I looked away from a young kid screaming for his mother as he clutched his intestines spilling out of his body. I clenched me teeth and sprinted forward to the next building. The scorpion tanks and warthogs rolled on through followed by the rest of our forces. As the vehicles spread out across the courtyard, I saw the people who went down the other direction of the hallway emerge from buildings that were connected to it. Many of them pushed captured Innies out of the buildings and shot them outside.

I ducked behind the building as a massive explosion went off in the center of the courtyard. It must have been their command center, not wanting it to fall into our hands. Three scorpion tanks and a dozen warthogs, followed by god knows how many UNSC servicemen, were engulfed in flames as the explosion created a mushroom cloud in the sky.

I popped out from cover and fired my magnum at an approaching group of Innies, downing them all. I started to rush up to a building across the way as another explosion detonated across the courtyard as _more_ warthogs and tanks came through a gaping hole from the north. I instantly recognized the black armor of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers manning the vehicles. ODSTs swarmed the rest of the Innies as they massacred them in a hail of fire.

I reached the building and kicked in the door. The door swung shut behind me as darkness closed in, only allowing me to see through a window that filtered through a bit of light. The interior was a small sitting room with a couch, armchair, and coffee table from what I could see in the light. I reached for what I thought was a lightswitch and felt something much different. I felt a shoulder.

My hand was seized in an iron-tight grip as I was thrown to the ground, my magnum skittering away into the darkness. I landed in the light as I saw an older man in his forties, get me into a full mount and raise his hand with a knife in it and attempt to plunge it into my chest. As he brought it down on me I grabbed his forearm with both my hands and resisted. The older man had a full beard and shaggy hair, he probably looked as crazy as I did.

I grunted as I pushed his hand back, now as we both put force on it with both of our hands. I risked letting one hand go and attempting to go at him. I grabbed his throat and squeezed as hard as I could. He started choking, but didn't let go of the knife. I twisted his wrist as he started to lose energy and loosen his grip on the knife. I slowly sat up and pushed him off of me. I couldnt die here. I had to get home. I had to.

We both stumbled to our feet as I looked around for the magnum. He yelled and charged at me, tackling me into the kitchen where it was brighter, with two windows giving us light this time. I pushed my feet against his chest and kicked him backwards. He feel as I stood up.

I grabbed the counter top as I rushed back into the living room where he was. As I entered I saw a glint out of the corner of my eye and saw my magnum raised to my face. He pulled the trigger.

_Click_.

It was empty. His eyes widened as I threw a right hook at his face and he dropped the magnum. I grabbed it as he crashed through his coffee table. I whipped him across the face, effectively breaking his cheekbone and his nose. Blood ran down his face as he panted, staring at me. I reached for a new magazine for my magnum. He wasn't done yet. The Insurrectionist grabbed the broken leg of the coffee table and threw it at my face. It hit me in the eye and I fell back into the kitchen once more, dropping my magnum, _again._ Bad day today.

I stood up as he grabbed my arms. I pushed him back into the wall. Something caught my eye. A knife block. He saw me go for it, but I was faster. I held him back and whipped a knife out of the block and held it blade-down in my hand. I stabbed it backwards and got him right in the gut. Air escaped his mouth as he clutched his wound. He feel backwards and leaned against the kitchen table. I pushed him down onto the table top and held him by the throat. He stared me right in the eye. Both of us bloody, beaten, tired. I held the knife to his throat.

"You son of a bitch..." I said to him through clenched teeth. What a pitiful man. "This is for Ramirez, and all the other innocent people you have killed"

The man started laughing. Blood came out of his mouth. He grinned through bloody teeth and said two words.

"Look down"

I glanced down and saw a sawed-off shotgun aimed at my stomach. My eyes widened as I tried to cut his throat. He was faster this time.

I was blown backwards across the kitchen as the buckshot sailed through my gut. I crashed against the refrigerator, blood smearing down it's white surface. I clutched my abdomen as it bled profusely. The Innie on the table had gone silent, he had bled out from the knife wound. My vision started to go blurry again, and my world started spinning. I couldn't die. I can't die here, not now. The edges of my vision started to get black as I held onto consciousness. I tried moving but it didn't work. I can't die, I told myself. I had to go home to Jen and Maddy, I had to see my family again. I pictured them in my head as I started to slip into unconsciousness. The battle was still raging outside.

Three figures came in through the front door and approached me. I tried talking, but I couldn't see them properly.

I managed to mutter "Maddy" before I slipped into unconsciousness and my whole world went black. 


	5. Chapter 5: Recovery

Chapter 5: Recovery****

**1830 hours, August 24 2524, (Military Calender)/  
>Insurrectionist Stronghold, Planet Thern<strong>

_So this is what it is like to die, I thought to myself._

_I drifted through a white corridor, dressed in white robes, floating with nothing but peace and calm. Free from war, violence, and death._

_I then thought of my family. I was overcome with sadness at the idea of never seeing my family again. I started falling. I felt the air rush by me as I plunged through the air and landed on the ground with a thud. I was in Scyllion._

_I pushed myself off the ground and looked down at myself. I was in my army battle dress uniform. I looked up and the street I was on was burning. Apartments and stores were ablaze, people and bodies everywhere. Cars were billowing smoke, and the sky was a deep blood red. A group of rebels came down the other side of the street and sprayed the crowds of people with automatic fire. I reached for my assault rifle, but I couldn't move._

_" You sons of bitches!" I screamed. That is when I was them._

_Jen and little Maddy walked out of an apartment building and into the center of the street. The rebels got closer. Closer to mowing them down with their weapons._

_Jen turned my way. "James!" she cried. Maddy had tears running down her face._

_"Jen! Maddy!" I screamed back. I tried running, but I still couldn't move. People were being cut down by the dozen as the Insurrectionists moved closer._

_"James!" Jen cried out again. I tried calling back to her again but now I couldn't speak. The rebels killed everyone except Jen and Maddy. The leader of the group stopped beside them. They were crying out to me, but I couldn't do anything. I was going to explode with anger and fear, but I still couldn't._

_The leader looked at me. He was the man I fought with in the house. He smiled his bloody grin, the knife wound still pouring out blood. Smoke and fire was everywhere. It felt like hell. I looked into the blood red sky and tried to scream again. No use._

_The man raised two magnums and aimed them at Jen and Maddy._

_"James! James!" Jen screamed once more. I closed my eyes and screamed._

"JEN!" I shot up in my bed.

"Woah! Easy, _amigo_ !" Santos got out of a nearby chair and came to my side.

It was just a dream.

I was sweating buckets, and was only wearing my combat pants and a white t-shirt. I looked around at where I was. I was in a cubicle inside of a large medical facility. I was sitting up in a hospital bed surrounded by white curtains. I could hear alot of other people outside, and i'm sure there were many other cubicles with similar wounded connected to mine. I had an IV connected to my arm and breathing tubes in my nostrils. I felt like some kind of lab experiment.

"You alright, James? How are you feeling?" Santos said as he stood next to me. The hefty Latino man was wearing olive drab combat pants with a similar t-shirt and his black combat boots. He had a bandage around his right hand that had a bit of blood on it, and multiple cuts and bruises on his face. He could be a dick sometimes, but he was always compassionate towards his friends, no matter how well he knew them.

"I feel like shit..." I muttered, rubbing my temples. My head was throbbing. I hit that fridge awfully hard.

"We thought you were dead when the mortars came down. Mackenzie and I were almost killed trying to get to you, so we sprinted our asses off to the stronghold. Sorry _hombre_" Santos said softly.

I nodded. There wasn't really much they could do. They would have either gotten hit by a speeding warthog or killed by the mortars. I didn't blame him.

"It's alright, at least you tried" I said with a bit of a smile. It hurt to move anything. I felt a bit itchy around my abdomen and lifted my t-shirt. I was wrapped in many bandages and filled with biofoam, a medical disinfectant that held you together and helped you heal and move if you were injured. My ribs hurt alot too.

"What happened to me?" I looked up and asked Santos. He was sitting in the chair again.

"Helluva fight you got into in that house. The guy got you through your guts with buckshot and almost gutted you. He ripped your liver apart and some of your intestines, but Doc Chagny cleaned it all up in there with a bit of surgery and a transplant for your liver. You shattered three of your ribs too. Must've been the crash. Other than a few cuts and bruises, you are _limpio, amigo_. You'll recover" he said with a smile. "Oh, and it turns out the guy you fought was a high-ranking Innie that ONI had been tracking for years. He would've gotten away if you hadn't showed up when you did" he added. I was surprised at that. Looks like I did help alot after all.

I only nodded once more and leaned back into my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was like a warehouse. Florescent lightbulbs were illuminating the building 50 meters above the ground. I had no idea where we were, but at least the building was heated.

"Where are we?" I asked Santos.

"The Innie whaling station, they have a pretty nice medical facility here. We have the medical crew from the _Barcelona _helping the marine and army medics patch everybody up here. One heck of a fight we had, if you ask me." he said with a bit of enthusiasm.

"So... does that mean we... did it? We're done?" I said with a bit of astonishment.

Santos smiled and nodded a few times.

"We're going home, _amigo_" Santos said with a grin.

I laughed and closed my eyes. We did it. We won the fight on Thern. No more Innies to fight on this cold-ass planet. I was relieved, I was finally going to see my family.

"Where is everyone else?" I now asked Santos. I was curious to see what happened to the rest of the squad.

"I don't know, around here somewhere. Everyone got hurt a little bit, except O'Grady, _que cabrón_..." Santos snorted. I think he said something along the lines of 'that bastard'. I caught on to languages pretty quickly.

"They didn't have any feckin' steak!" I heard from the other side of the curtain.

Mackenzie stormed in with a tray full of food, and passed a plate full of potatoes, chicken, and soup to Santos. Mackenzie plopped himself down into another chair. "Of all the things that I want right now, they don't feckin' have it!"

"Get any for me?" I said jokingly.

Mackenzie's eyes shot up at me. He broke out into a huge Scottish laugh.

"So Private First Class James Clarke lives to see another day!" Mackenzie cried as he put his plate down and rushed over to me, full of smiles. He was banged up as well, his leg was in a brace and he and a cast on fourth and fifth fingers on his left hand. He too bore cuts and bruises on his body.

"How you feelin' ya little shite? Scared the feckin' hell out of us." he said in a joking manner as he pulled up his chair beside my bed.

"All the better for seeing you, Mack" I said softly with a smile.

"Get a fucking room guys" Santos spoke with his mouth full of chicken.

"Shut yer gob Santos, you were gettin' all argie-bargie with the Doc about comin' in ta see Clarke!" Mackenzie said viciously. Santos' face reddened as he tried to think of a response. He was about to say something as the curtain flung open again.

"Clarke, you're awake!" Staff Sergeant Rhodes said as he walked into the cubicle. It was getting pretty crowded.

"That I am" I said in response.

"Gave us one hell of a fucking scare, that Innie got you good. If it weren't for the liver they had flash cloned, you would have kicked the bucket by now" Rhodes spoke the last bit in a slightly lower tone. I knew he was worried.

"Give it up for technology" I said. I was happy to be alive and around my friends. It had been one hell of a few days.

The three army troopers laughed. We were all in good humor.

"I think Colonel Montgomery has been looking for you, Clarke. He heard about what you did to breach your section of the whaling station, not to mention your scrap with that Innie officer. I think I hear the sound of ribbon and metal" the Sergeant added with a smirk.

"I did what I could. If it wasn't for the techniques we came up with on Cyrus VII, we would have been fucked into next week by that MG" I said solemnly. It was true, had I not fought on Cyrus VII, I wouldn't have known how to take out a machine gun effectively, and we wouldn't have breached the stronghold and smashed into the entrance defenses from behind. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose.

"Santos here created that blast for the ODSTs on the north side of the compound. They got in easy with all the Innies trying to kick your asses." Rhodes remarked.

I wasn't surprised, give Santos explosives and a match and he could find a way to breach anything.

"Helluva fireworks show" Santos said proudly, still stuffing his face with food. That man sure could eat.

We continued telling stories from the battle for the next 20 minutes or so. It was good to hear that everyone made it through in one piece, although I still would talk with Valdez, and especially O'Grady, on their part of the fight. It was interesting to listen to their stories, as you could see the fight through many perspectives, not just your own.

It was close to 7 o'clock when the runner came by.

"Sorry to interrupt, Staff Sergeant, but we are boarding the _Barcelona_ now" the army private said as he popped his head into the cubicle. "Doc Chagny told me to tell you to get Private Clarke aboard" the young kid added before he bolted off to the next cubicle.

Santos sighed and raised his fists into the air.

"We're going home!" he cheered.

We all smiled at the thought, not for the first time. Finally, after all this fighting, we were going home. I hadn't seen or heard from Jen in months, and I wondered how much Maddy had grown since I left. All these thoughts sat warmly in my head as Rhodes pushed the side bar down on the hospital bed.

"Clarke, do you think you could walk?" the Sergeant asked. I sat up in the bed and winced as little streams of pain shot through my abdomen. I ignored it for the moment.

"I think so..." I muttered as I swung my legs slowly over the side of the bed and put my sock feet on the floor. I swayed a bit as I tried to stand. The doctor drugged me pretty good.

"Easy..." Mackenzie said as he supported my arm and helped me stand. Santos helped me put on my boots. I felt like an old man, and my squadmates were my caretakers. It was sort of degrading, but I knew they were only trying to help.

"Thanks guys..." I said as I started to slowly walk out of the cubicle. I didn't want them to help me walk, it wasn't like I had leg surgery. Medical technology these days was pretty amazing in the sense that you could have an organ transplant and recover within a few hours to a few days. I had only been out of it for 9 hours, and although I was still sore all over, I wanted to retain my dignity.

Rhodes passed me my jacket and I put it on. I felt the warm comfort of the dirty thing as I walked. I had been through months of cold weather in this thing, I had sort of grown attached to it.

I pushed the curtain aside as we stepped out of the cubicle. I saw just how massive the interior of this building was. It was like a hanger, a huge expanse of concrete as thousands of people went this way and that pushing stretchers, equipment, and weapons, transport warthogs carrying loads of ammunition, rations, and other supplies, technicians and medical personnel walking with clipboards and tools as they went about their jobs. Everyone seemed to be moving in the same general direction, towards the massive main doors where pelicans awaited to take their load to the frigate.

"You sure you're okay to walk?" Rhodes asked me.

I gave him a sidelong glance and nodded. He gave a concerned smile as we continued walking.

"Where is Valdez and O'Grady?" I inquired. I hadn't seen either of them yet.

"They're already aboard the _Barcelona_. Valdez took a few bullets to his legs and lower tors, and he was one of the first to get aboard an evac pelican. O'Grady went with him so he'd have a bit of company, little bugger missed half the fight" Mackenzie said with a bit of anger as he finished the sentence.

O'Grady was a good kid as far as I could tell, but he was still raw. He arrived on Thern yesterday and had woken the next day packing up for an all-out assault. He was afraid of combat, but I couldn't really blame him. Everybody was.

We pushed our way through the crowds and arrived at the loading bay. We were waved into an awaiting pelican by an overworked desk sergeant, scrawling down the contents of each departing pelican.

I was helped into the bay of an awaiting pelican and sat down in one of the jump seats. Rhodes, Santos, and Mackenzie came in behind me, followed by six other troopers. I nodded to the other troopers as they passed, I knew most of them from the time we had spent together on Thern. Mackenzie plopped himself down in the seat beside me and sighed. We were all exhausted from the events of the past few days.

A marine came around to each pelican and counted the number of people aboard. She wrote down the number and banged on the bay wall. The pilot turned around and gave her a thumbs up. She hopped out and scuttled along to the next pelican.

The pelican lifted off the ground and glided out of the loading bay doors. A gust of cool arctic air blew through the pelican, causing me to pull the collar of my jacket up around my neck. I winced as the movement stretched my wound. It seemed like every movement I made caused something to hurt in my body. I had really taken a beating in the assault, the adrenaline coursing through me at the time kept the pain away. I would have to head down to the medical bay once we arrived in the _Barcelona_.

The pelican doors shut with a soft _hiss_.

I leaned my head against the bay wall and shut my eyes. Wait until Jen saw me all messed up like this. She would blow a gasket, telling me to be more careful. I smiled at the thought.

Mackenzie nudged me lightly, being cautious not to cause me any more pain.

"Whatcha doin' once we get back to the Inner Colonies?" the Scottish man asked me.

"Getting a better job" I replied sardonically. I was kidding, of course. I couldn't find better work. The idea was a nice one though.

Mackenzie snorted.

"Good luck with that" he muttered.

"I'm going back to Charybdis obviously. I haven't seen my family in months. Using my leave to live a normal life for a while" I said with my eyes still closed. Now that was a nice idea, I thought to myself.

Mackenzie nodded.

"What about you?" I asked now.

"Ah, goin' home ta see me friends and parents on Tribute" Mackenzie said, "Maybe find me a lass" he added with a smile.

I chuckled at his idea.

"Good luck with that" I said, repeating what he said to me before.

We flew for a few minutes before arriving inside the hangar of the _Barcelona_. We got out and the four of us went down to the medical bay. My abdomen was starting to hurt again now that the drugs had worn off.

A medical technician directed me to a bed and I lay down in it, accepting it's warm comfort after months of lying on cots and metal bunk beds.

Rhodes and Santos said goodbye to me for the time being and left to go about their business.

Mackenzie stood at the side of my bed as the medical technician hooked me up to an IV and checked the dressing of my wounds.

I bit the inside of my cheek as he removed the old bandages and applied new ones. He was taking great care not to hurt me, but it hurt like hell anyways. I wasn't going to cry like a bitch because he was trying to help me.

The medical technician finished his work and turned to me.

"You're not fit to go on ice yet, you'll have to stay here in the med bay until that wound closes up and scabs over" the young man gestured towards my torso.

He was right. The cryogenic chambers were aboard every UNSC vessel. They were used to cryonically freeze non-essential personnel for long periods of time. The bridge crew, captain, and technicians would have to stay out to keep the vessel running. Us grunts, however, used them quite frequently. The long slipspace jumps, over time and alot of use, would shave years off of our life. Biologically, I was 25, but with all the time i've spent in cryo-sleep I was closer to 27. If I stayed in one now my wound would freeze and damage the tissue even more.

I nodded. My eyes were becoming heavy, I was pretty tired.

Mackenzie spoke up now.

"You should get some rest, James. T'is goin' ta be a long trip back to Reach" he spoke softly.

I nodded again. It would be three weeks before we arrived on Reach. From there I would say my goodbyes and catch a ship back to Charybdis IX.

A corporal stepped into the room and handed Mackenzie a bag. My bag. Mackenzie nodded in thanks and put my bag into a footlocker at the end of my bed.

"We packed your things for ya. Your magnum is in there, too" Mackenzie said with a bit of a grin.

Normally we weren't allowed to bring our issued weapons back home with us, but people always went against that rule. The UNSC only allowed one weapon per civilian, and those weapons couldn't be military grade. My magnum had the scratches and wear that one would expect from years of combat. I always had it with me. I snuck mine home every time I was on leave. There was no way I would take a shitty civilian weapon to protect my family.

"Thanks Mack..." I muttered. I was on the edge of falling asleep.

"Anytime James, anytime" Mackenzie replied in a soft voice.

I heard his boots clomping on the metal floors as he left the room. The rhythm of his boots on the floor was strangely hypnotic.

Within minutes I was fast asleep.

* * *

><p><p>

_Author's Note:_

_Thank you all so much for the positive feedback! This story has become much more popular than I imagined. Feel free to review, anonymous or not. I have many ideas swimming around in my head for Clarke and his squad, things are about to get interesting! _

_-Phantogram_


	6. Chapter 6: Homecoming

Chapter 6: Homecoming

**1300 hours, September 13 2524, (Military Calendar)/  
>UNSC <strong>_**Barcelona**_**, Epsilon Eridani System**

The weeks went by very slowly.

I had recovered from my injuries within days of arriving aboard the _Barcelona_. I didn't have much to keep me occupied, everybody who wasn't in cryo sleep was either busy doing their jobs or too injured or weak to talk. Instead of fighting the Innies, my main enemy was boredom. I spent my time reading or surfing the Holonet, both of which bored the fuck out of me. As soon as Doc Chagny allowed me to leave the medical bay, I found out that there really wasn't much else to do aboard the frigate. I couldn't even go into cryo sleep because of all the extra personnel on board, there was no room left. I woke up this morning determined to keep my sanity. I donned my battle dress uniform and headed down to Colonel Montgomery's temporary office, desperate to find something to keep me from dying of boredom.

I knocked on the metal door as the half-shaven Colonel poked his head out the door, razor still in hand.

"Yes?" the English officer said.

I snapped him a sharp salute, "Private First Class James Clarke, reporting for duty sir!"

The Colonel's eyebrows shot up.

"Ah, Clarke. I've been looking for you the past little while, son. Step in." Montgomery asked.

The Colonel turned back into his room as I stepped over the low doorframe and into his quarters. Normally, us lower ranks were not allowed into an officer's quarters unless invited or there was an important matter to discuss. Either way, I felt pretty privileged to be inside my commanding officer's room. Montgomery walked into his small bathroom to the right and continued to shave in the mirror. It was pretty informal, we were in Slipspace, I don't think he expected many visitors looking for some sort of work.

His room was relatively dim. A small sitting area consisting of two couches and a coffee table sat to my right, and his large paper-covered oak desk sat directly ahead. A desk lamp was the only illumination in the room, with the white bathroom light casting a few more hints of illumination into the darkness. Another door lay next to the bathroom door, which I assumed was his sleeping quarters.

"Have a seat, Private. In front of my desk" Montgomery called from his bathroom.

I pulled a chair up in front of the wooden desk. I started to get nervous, I had no idea what he wanted with me now. Rhodes claimed it was an award, but I had a feeling that if the Colonel has been "looking for me the past little while", it must be something more important than a medal.

Montgomery stepped out of his bathroom and placed his beret on his head. His boots giving that oddly soothing rhythm on the floor.

He sat down his high-backed swivel chair with a sigh.

"So Private, what brings you here?" the Colonel asked me as he lit a cigar. I wasn't a smoker, but the smell of his Sweet William cigar that UNSC officers favored was strangely intoxicating.

"I was told as we were boarding that you wished to see me, sir. I'm sorry for not coming sooner, I was heavily injured in combat and only recently got out" I had gotten out 8 days ago and had pushed the order to the back of my mind. Recent enough by my standards.

"Mhm, i'm aware of your injuries. You did a helluva job getting into the compound, my officers tell me. Lieutenant Li was impressed. He saw you lead an assault on the section of the wall you breached. Your stunt saved us alot of lives. Unorthodox, but effective." Montgomery said as he tapped his cigar into an ashtray.

I nodded, not wanting to gloat.

"And you engaged a rebel in hand-to-hand combat, correct?" Montgomery inquired.

"Yes sir, that is correct" I confirmed.

The Colonel put a folder down in front of me. 'OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE' was stamped across the front. I opened the folder and stared at it's contents. Inside were pages and pages of reports on one Major Kalikov Dostanko. Pictures of the rebel I had fought were attached to the front of the assembly of papers, although he looked younger and was cleanly shaven. I raised an eyebrow as I flipped through the pages.

"The man you killed was Major Dostanko, a rebel leader that ONI has been tracking for years. He had a personal craft waiting for him in a secluded portion of the compound, equipped with a Shaw-Fujikawa slipspace drive. If you hadn't walked in when you did, he would've fled Thern and out of our grasp once more. Congratulations Private, you just bagged yourself a rebel officer" Montgomery said with a grin.

"I was only doing my duty, sir" I replied. I was holding back a smile as I realized that I had actually done something productive in this war.

"You paid a price, Private" the Colonel began, gesturing at my midsection where my scabbed wounds were still healing, "that price shouldn't go unnoticed"

The Colonel stood, and going with formalities I stood as well. The Colonel placed his cigar in his mouth and opened his desk drawer, pulling out a small box. He walked around the desk and opened the box, taking out a shining medal and pinning it on my chest. I glanced down and saw a shining Purple Heart on my jacket. Purple Hearts have been around for hundreds of years, being awarded to soldiers who were badly wounded or killed in battle. Lieutenant Li and Staff Sergeant Rhodes had both amassed multiple Purple Hearts.

I snapped a crisp salute once again. "Thank you, sir"

The Colonel returned a brief salute.

"You're a good soldier, Clarke. That little stint of yours shows that you are also a capable leader. The brass is planning something big, and they've got their eyes on you" the Colonel said through clenched teeth, holding his cigar in place.

I was surprised at this news. I was a regular infantryman, just like everyone else. I hadn't signed up to be a marine or an ODST. I had signed up to be a regular, ground-going, frontline grunt. The fact that the higher-ups, people that held more rank than Colonel Montgomery, were watching me and knew who I was made me a little more than antsy. I wanted to know what this plan of theirs was, but I decided not to ask any questions, no matter how much I wanted to know.

"We can only wait" I replied.

The Colonel gave a quiet laugh.

I bit my lip as I considered my next question.

"Sir, I was wondering if there was any duties you could have me do until we get off of here. I'm going mad with boredom" I said with a bit of hesitation. I didn't want to come across as a pushover who couldn't occupy himself through one slipspace trip.

"Yeah, head down to the armory and you can clean the weapons" the Colonel replied as he sat down in his desk again and began flipping through reports again.

A smile finally cracked over my face. I was good with weapons, and could strip them and clean them up pretty quickly.

"Thank you sir, i'll get on that right away" I said nonchalantly, giving him another salute before I left the room.

We only had another day or so before people came out of their cryo pods, so having armory duty would give me plenty of things to do before I had to disembark.

I arrived in the armory and set myself about the task of stripping all the weapons and cleaning their inner components. I worked for a few hours and dozed off on the floor close to 3 in the morning.

I was jostled awake by trembling as the _Barcelona_ came out of slipspace. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was not a nice sleep. I put on my helmet and rushed back to the sleeping quarters and grabbed my bag out of my locker. I saw Doc Chagny in the hall and gave the french doctor a quick nod as I ducked under a bulkhead. I was very excited to get off of the frigate. I had already been paid a few days before, and military personnel rode passenger freighters for free on their return home. Marines, ODSTs, and army troopers were already fully dressed and assembling in the docking bay.

I pushed my way through the crowd as I caught glimpse of Valdez. A faint smile crept across my face. The joke would be on him. I crept up behind him and wrapped my arm around his neck, this time his arms flew up towards his neck as he tried to wrench me free.

"No magnum now, huh Valdez?" I laughed into his ear.

Valdez gave the best laugh he could while being choked and fell into me as I kept my grip. People parted as they saw this "fight" starting. A circle was quickly formed around us as people cheered us on.

Valdez reached around my right leg and pulled it out from beneath me. I tried keeping my grip as my arms slid up to his forehead and slipped off. He flipped himself over and jumped ontop of me, causing my still-healing ribs to start hurting again. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Valdez broke into a smile as he sat on top of me, pinning my arms beside my head. The cheers grew louder as I tried to resist him. I was going in for a headbutt as the cheers died down and people tried to scurry away. Two military policemen walked into our circle and heaved Valdez off of me. I was pulled to me feet as well.

"What the fuck is going on here?" one of them asked us.

"It was just a fun match, sir" Valdez said with a bit of a grin on his face.

"This true?" the other MP turned to me.

I nodded. "Yes sir, its true"

They let us off with a warning. "Save it for the rebels" they told us.

Valdez punched me in the arm, "Nice fucking job"

I shrugged. "You had it coming"

We clapped each other's shoulders. It had been weeks since we had seen each other, and we had both gotten wounded in the battle.

Valdez pointed at the Purple Heart pinned on my jacket.

"When did you get that?" he inquired.

"Yesterday, Montgomery gave it to me in his office" I replied. I didn't tell my squadmate about the other things the Colonel told me about.

Valdez laughed. "I beat you to the punch" He opened his jacket and showed me his Purple Heart sitting on his inside dress uniform shirt.

I shrugged again. It didn't really matter who won what first. It's not like we were expecting awards.

We briefly exchanged our stories of the fight as Mackenzie and Santos showed up.

"Look who it is, the fat man and the celtic asshole" Valdez shouted over to them.

"I'm not fat, _amigo_, i'm pleasantly plump" Santos corrected him.

As with Valdez, we greeted them with smiles and claps on the shoulder. Thats when O'Grady showed up.

"Guys! Over here!" O'Grady waved as he jogged over, dragging his multiple suitcases and duffel bag behind him.

Mackenzie's eyebrows shot up.

"What did ya pack in der, your entire feckin' closet?" Mackenzie asked.

O'Grady looked down at his bags and answered. "I packed a few weeks worth of clothes, soap, towels, laundry deter-"

"Hey O'Grady, nobody cares what your mother packed you" Santos jived.

We all laughed, except O'Grady.

"I packed it myself" the blonde haired kid said matter-of-factly.

I was about to ask O'Grady how his part of the fight went when Valdez spoke up.

"There's the spaceport" the Martian pointed out of the transparent airlock at the New Alexandria Orbital Spaceport.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Ready to go home, Clarke?"

I turned and saw Staff Sergeant Rhodes standing beside me.

I smiled and nodded.

"Of course. Who isn't?"

I hadn't seen my squadmates for almost a month. They were like a second family to me. O'Grady would take a bit of getting used to, but he would fit in eventually, if he survived our next engagement, that is. I thought about the events of the past few months. Fighting on Thern, Ramirez dying, O'Grady filling his shoes, assaulting the whaling station, getting blasted in the gut by a shotgun, and of course Colonel Montgomery telling me about the brass' "plans" for me. All these thoughts swam around in my brain.

I shook my head. I wouldn't have to worry about these things for a while. I was going home, and I was spending time with my family. I stood amongst my squadmates and the massive crowd as the _Barcelona_ docked with the spaceport. The hiss of the airlocks disengaging and the dissipation of the transparent barrier was greeted by the cheers of everyone assembled in the bay. People surged forward into the big hallway of the spaceport as we exited. We came into the massive lobby as people scattered everywhere, families waiting and giving hugs and kisses.

I stood with my squadmates as we all turned to each other.

"Well boys, its been a good fight. Enjoy your leave, we'll see you in a few months" Rhodes said with a genuine smile as he playfully punched O'Grady. "See ya kid"

He turned around and walked in the direction of the ticket desk. Nobody knew much about Rhodes, the squad had a pot going on about where he was from. Rhodes knew about the bet, but he never told us. He liked to keep us guessing. We all stared at him as he purchased his ticket, hoping to read the attendant's lips or get some hint at where he was from.

"He's from Luna, i'm telling you" Valdez spoke up.

"Nah, he's definitely a Harvest guy" Santos replied.

We debated for a few minutes before we heard Santos curse.

"Shit, i'm going to miss my ride. _Amigos_, we'll see you later" Santos waved and jogged as fast as his fat legs could take him.

"I've got to go too, the flight to Earth is leaving soon" O'Grady said. "It's been a pleasure guys, really. I'll see you soon"

"See you later, rookie" I said as I ruffled his hair.

O'Grady ran off towards his terminal.

"Christopher!" I heard a woman shout.

An african-american woman came running out of the crowd as Valdez turned and laughed, spreading his arms wide open. They kissed each other and then he turned to me and Mackenzie.

"Oh, guys, this is my fiancé, Shannon" he told us.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Chris has told me all about you two" she said with a smile.

"Good things, I hope" I smiled.

They both laughed.

"We've got to go, it's been real boys" Valdez and Shannon scurried off towards their terminal. Mackenzie and I stood together as we watched them go.

"Nice arse, that one has" Mackenzie murmured to me. I rolled my eyes.

"No wonder you're single..."

The P.A. system came online.

"FLIGHT TO TRIBUTE DEPARTING IN, 20 MINUTES" the female said.

"Thats me. James, i'll call you sometime" Mackenzie said as we shook each others hands. He wrapped his arm around me and gave me a "man hug".

I nodded to him and smiled.

"Keep it classy, Mack"

Mackenzie looked behind him and pounded a hand against his chest, and then he was gone.

Now I was alone. My flight wasn't leaving for another half hour. I readjusted my bag on my shoulder and walked over towards a bench. That was when my stomach once again backflipped.

"Daddy!" I heard a familiar little voice from the crowd.

I turned around and saw a little girl with curly brown hair, bright blue eyes and a little blue dress on. It was Maddy.

I dropped down to one knee and spread open my arms. She ran into me with so much force that it nearly knocked me over.

"Maddy, I missed you so much" I said to her. I'm surprised she recognized me, I had bruises and cuts still healing.

I looked up and an even bigger smile broke out across my face.

"Maddy? Maddy! There you ar-" the elegant, blonde-haired woman stopped and covered her mouth.

"James..." I stood up and embraced Jen.

"You're back..." she said to me. I kissed her.

"I always come back" I said with a smile.

I looked at the two of them. After months of fighting on a barren wasteland, through the cold, demoralizing nights, raids, blizzards, and the assault, I had never lost hope. Never lost the will to fight. I always had that one light in the darkness. For the first time in months, I was genuinely happy.

I was with my family.

It was only for a few months, yes, but I didn't think about the future. The moment was now, and I was ready to live in that moment.

"Come on, we've got to get home" I said as I picked up Maddy and held Jen's hand.

Little did I know then that these few months would be the last time i'd see either of them for years. 

_Author's Note:_

_Hopefully these filler chapters have given you a bit more insight and depth into the squad's lifestyles and personalities. Prepare for the entrance of some unwanted visitors..._

_-Phantogram_


	7. Chapter 7: Unexpected Visitors

Chapter 7: The Covenant

**1650 hours, February 25 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Scyllion, Charybdis IX<strong>

I hate shopping.

I took a box of cereal off of the shelf and compared it with another one. The light music of the supermarket filled the store, as Maddy babbled away in the shopping cart. Forget rebels, if I don't get a "healthy" cereal, Jen will kill me.

It had been almost 6 months since I returned from Thern. Usually we only got a month of leave, but because of my injuries and the heavy casualties the 3rd Infantry Division took and the almost total destruction of the 367th Field Artillery, HIGHCOM gave the whole unit a block leave. I was only 10 days away from returning to hell once more, so I savored every moment I had left with my family.

I placed one of the boxes of cereal back on the shelf and tossed the other one into the cart. I continued down the aisle as Maddy was talking away. She was pretty vocal for your average 4 year old.

"Daddy, can we get ice cream on the way home?" Maddy asked, looking up at me with her big blue eyes.

I smiled. "We'll see, sweatheart. You know mommy doesn't like it when you eat sweets before dinner"

She picked up an orange out of the cart and played with it in her hands as I grabbed a bag of chips off of the shelf. It was funny, less than a year ago I was on a frozen wasteland fighting against the Insurrection, and now I was in a comfortable supermarket fighting against increasing taxes. It is a strange universe we live in.

"Daddy, is Mister Fitzgard coming for dinner?" Maddy inquired.

I nodded "Yes sweetie, Mister Fitzgard is coming. You be on your best behavior, okay?"

Hermann Fitzgard was a good family friend of ours who served as a combat surgeon during the early decades of the Insurrection. Now he works as a surgeon in Scyllion General Hospital, and is an expert toxicologist. I met the German doctor many years ago before I got married, and he has since become a very good friend of mine.

She looked up at me from her seat in the cart again "What about Mister Sampson?"

My brow furrowed at the mention of that name. William Sampson lived in our condo down the hallway. At first I thought he was alright, but I saw him skulking around a notorious part of the city known for it's high rebel activity. As soon as he found out I was UNSC, he gave me the cold shoulder and often gave me dirty looks. He tried breaking into our condo before, and i've seen him trying to talk to Jen as she walks down the hallway. I can't prove he is an Innie, but i'm almost sure of it that he is. He never lets anybody into his condo, and there is often a sulfuric smell coming from his residence. I fear that once I leave on duty again, he will do something to harm my family. I cannot let that happen.

"I told you not to talk to Mister Sampson" I said discouragingly.

"But he is nice!" Maddy whined, letting the orange fall into her lap.

"Maddy, do not talk to Mister Sampson, do you understand me?" I said sternly.

Maddy slumped down into the seat of the cart. "Yes daddy..."

I kissed her on her head. "Good girl, now lets go pay for this"

I payed for our groceries and loaded them into our old Sedan. I strapped Maddy into her car seat and pulled out of the parking lot. It was a bit chilly here on Scyllion this time of year, but it was nothing compared to the bitter cold of Thern, or the winters on Tribute. I rubbed my abdomen where I was shot in September, it had healed, but it still acted up a bit on cold days.

My hand nudged against an object protruding from my hip under my peacoat and felt the familiar weight of my magnum rested in it's holster. I brought it everywhere with me, especially when I was with my family. Rebels were acting up on Charybdis IX these days, you never know when you could use it. We pulled up to a red light in downtown Scyllion. It was an overcast day, but rush hour was beginning already. I turned around in my seat.

I smiled at Maddy "We are going to go pick up Mister Fitzgard, alright?"

I got a cheery "Okay!" from Maddy. She was a good girl, i'll miss her terribly when I leave again.

I picked up my phone and tried calling Jen again. No answer. She was worried sick about her parents back on Harvest, nobody in Scyllion had heard from anybody on Harvest in weeks. Valdez gave me a call not to long ago to say hello and to discuss information on when we were deploying again. I had asked him if he had heard anything from Harvest. He said that something was going down over there, but he didn't know the details. I decided not to tell Jen, not wanting her to worry any more than she was.

We drove for a few minutes until we pulled up to an old New York style apartment. An older man was leaning against the wall of the building, smoking away. I rolled down the passenger side window and beckoned him in.

The man flicked his cigarette onto the road, hefted a satchel and approached our car.

"I was just starting that, those are expensive cigarettes..." Hermann said through his thick German accent, sitting down in the passenger seat.

I grinned as we pulled away from the apartment "And how many do you have left in that pack?"

"An expensive amount. I don't like wasting them" Hermann replied sardonically.

The white-haired man had sharp grey eyes and a thin mouth. Years of smoking had turned his teeth yellow, but he still had a warm smile. "You haven't changed, Hermann"

The German man snorted as he turned around in his seat, ignoring me.

"Hello Maddy, aren't you looking nice today" he said with a big smile. He was always good with kids.

Maddy broke out into a big toothy smile and began "Thanks Mister Fitzgard, my mommy did my hair this morning". She continued on for a few minutes about her day that many people would have found boring and uninteresting. I was her dad, of course I would listen, but Hermann was fully engaged in the conversation the whole time.

We pulled up to our condominium and stepped into the lobby. I was surprised that the security guard who usually sat at the front desk wasn't there. I shrugged it off, he probably was in the bathroom. Maddy and Hermann continued talking as we went up the elevator to the seventh floor. As soon as the doors opened, the smell hit us.

I gagged at the putrid smell coming from Sampson's condo. Maddy nearly threw up and Hermann, having worked with substances worse than this all his life, merely turned up his nose at it.

"Someone must be working with chemicals..." the German remarked as we walked towards our condo.

I grabbed Maddy's hand "Thanks for the information, Doc" I said sarcastically.

Hermann shrugged. He was just making an observation.

We reached our door and I grabbed the handle. It was locked. Odd, but I thought nothing of it and got the key out of my pocket and opened the door. We entered our sparsely-furnished living room, the lights were off. I was hit with another wave of the stench as the door blasted more of it into our faces, seeming to be even stronger in here.

"Must've come through the vents" I said as I covered my nose with my hand and instructed Maddy to use her shirt to do the same.

"Jen, we're here. Will Sampson has been cooking up a helluva cocktail down there..." I shouted as I made my way through out living room and into our kitchen, where I placed the bags of groceries on the counter. It was almost as if the substance was concentrated in here.

Hermann took off his coat and lay it over the back of an armchair and helped Maddy take off hers. Maddy coughed a few times.

"Where is that coming from?" Herman asked, covering his nose at the strong odor.

I made my way across the living room towards our security device on the wall. "Hell if I know... maybe it is a gas leak?"

Hermann came up behind me and adjusted the satchel on his shoulder "Then why isn't everybody outside?".

I flipped open the security panel and my eyes widened at the text displayed on it.

SECURITY CALLED. PLEASE STAND BY.

I instantly reached for my magnum and pulled it out of it's holster. I got a surprised exasperation from Hermann and Maddy. Hermann had seen the text, and I gave him a quick glance. He was feeling the same way. I had the knot in my stomach that happened when I had a bad feeling about something, and this time it wasn't from the odor.

I tried to be as calm as possible "Hermann, take Maddy across the street to Mrs. Kelly. She is to stay there until I come for her. Quickly." The German nodded and without haste got Maddy's coat on and ushered her towards the door.

Maddy had a look of fear on her face as she saw her father holding a gun and Mr. Fitzgard rushing her out of the door. "Daddy, where is mommy?"

I crouched down beside her and looked her in the eyes. "Maddy, go with Mr. Fitzgard and see Mrs. Kelly. I will be over soon. Okay?"

She tried to complain but I gave her a quick kiss and motioned them out. The painted white door shut with a soft _click_. I was about as clueless of the situation as they were, but if security was called, a strange gas was in the air, the lights were off, the door was locked, and Jen wasn't at the door, something was up.

I walked down our hallway and passed by Maddy's bedroom. I opened the door into the sky-blue room, adorned with birds and butterflies. Nothing.

Why would gas be concentrated in here? I thought to myself. It was much stronger now than it was when we were in the hallway, even when we passed Sampson's residence. I rounded the corner of the hallway and froze. There on the ground, the desk guard was face-up on the floor, vomit spilling from his mouth. I bent down and checked his pulse. I felt nothing but my own heartbeat hammering in my chest. I got up and reached the door to our bedroom. I went to grab the handle, but if there was somebody in there, I would have to get the drop on them. I backed up a step and kicked the door as hard as I could. The soft wood splintered as the force behind my kick slammed into it. I kicked once more and the door swung open. I took two huge steps, magnum leveled and at the ready. Our bedroom was also sparsely furnished, only having our king sized bed, a dresser, two sidetables on either side of the bed, and an armchair. I swept my gun across the room and saw Jen, lying face-up on the bed.

Beside her in the armchair was William Sampson.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I shouted at him.

The sandy-haired man tried getting up from his seat. He was a bit older than me, but looked younger. He was clean shaven aside from a small sole patch.

"Came by for a visit" Sampson said, standing up from his chair. I kept my magnum aim right at him.

"Sit the fuck back down and don't move or i'll blow your head off" I said, walking towards him, gun never straying from him.

I kept my magnum aimed at Sampson, who was sitting in the chair again. I went over to the end of the bed and shook Jen.

I shook Jen with alot of force "Jen! Wake up!". She stirred, but she babbled something incomprehensible. Her blonde hair was messy against the pillow, as if she had moved alot while she lay still.

"What did you do to her you son of a bitch!" I screamed at Sampson.

"You UNSC faggots need to learn what it's like when you come storming into our homes and kill our wives and children. You are UNSC, James. You need to pay for being an arrogant fucker" Sampson spat.

"You're an Innie, eh? So blowing up our homes and cities isn't being an arrogant fucker in your opinion?" I replied just as menacingly.

"You need to fucking learn. We protested, but you wouldn't fucking listen"

I tightened my grip on my magnum "And that is _my _fault? I wasn't even alive then"

His eyes were fixed on the gun "You support the UNSC, so you have to pay the cost of supporting the UNSC, and so does your lovely wife"

I got closer to him. "You didn't answer my question, what the fuck did you do to Jen?"

Sampson looked a bit more nervous as I got the gun closer to him. He was a coward, and I know he would try and kill me if he had the chance.

"Knockout gas" Sampson said sheepishly, "followed by a nice little injection"

In one swift movement, I spun my magnum around and held it by the barrel, lashing it across Sampson's cheek.

I pressed the gun to his forehead "Nobody, and I say nobody, touches my wife... i'm going to fucking kill you"

Sampson massaged his cheek, a deep cut swelling with blood having occurred, and more blood trickling out of his mouth.

He looked scared shitless. He was a rebel, and he was a fanatic, but he wasn't suicidal. I smacked him across the face again with my magnum, shattering many of his teeth. He slumped back into the chair, blood pouring down his face. I put my magnum under his chin and held him by his collar.

"I'm going to kill you" I said in a low tone, right in his ear.

He was scared now, he didn't want to die. His eyes widened as a thought came to him. He smirked and laughed.

"You can't. Kill me and you won't be able to cure your wife" he said with a bloody smile.

He was right. I raised my magnum again. He cowered in his seat, preparing for another hit. I wiped the butt of my magnum on his plaid shirt. A look of relief came over him, but he didn't manage to say anything as the butt came down once more across his face. He fell out of the chair and onto the floor. I tore a blanket up and bound his hands and feet. I picked him up and put him back in the chair. I went to grab my phone and call the police as Hermann came stopping into the room.

I starred at him "Hermann! What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you were with Maddy"

The German doctor surveyed the room with widened eyes, looking from Jen to Sampson to me. "What on earth happened here?" he walked briskly across the room to Jen, who was now convulsing on the bed.

I pointed with my bloody magnum at Sampson, who was sitting silently in the chair, bleeding profusely.

"This sonofabitch did something to Jen and killed the guard out there" I said in a panicked tone. I came up beside Jen on my side of the bed and held her hand. I had no idea what to do, but maybe Hermann did.

Hermann quickly sat down beside Jen and checked Jen over in various places, opening her eyelids and checking her eyes.

"She hasn't got much time, i've seen this before. She's been poisoned," Hermann gestured towards three syringes on the side table, one empty and two full of green liquid, "and it looks like he planned on getting you and Maddy, too"

I shook my head at the thought of Maddy getting attacked like this.

I gave Hermann a sidelong glance, "Can you do something?" I said nervously.

Hermann rubbed his chin thoughtfully, always calm and collected from years of performing on-the-spot surgeries and being in life-or-death situations.

"Yes, but there is a few... complications. This poison is palytoxin, a toxic substance coming from a type of coral. I have the antidote in my satchel, it is a mixture of a few simple pharmaceuticals" Hermann said with a bit of hesitation.

I nodded multiple times. "What's so complicated about that? Do it before it's too late!"

Hermann shook his head.

"Thats the thing. There are two types of coral, a brown and a blue, and there is a specific antidote for each"

"Then give her both!" I almost shouted.

He shook his head again.

"I can't, if I give her the wrong antidote, then a chemical reaction will happen in her bloodstream and her heart will rupture"

I slumped down onto my haunches. I felt helpless. My wife was dying infront of me and I couldn't do anything. This rebel walks into my house and poisons my wife, kills the desk guard and had the intention to kill me and my daughter. So much for dinner.

Hermann continued, "Unless me find out which type of coral it is, then she'll die within the next twenty minutes, and I don't think our friend will throw away his only lifeline"

Sampson smirked through a blood covered face. He couldn't be killed. We needed him alive, and this antidote was the only thing keeping him that way.

I shook my head in defeat. I'd rather I had been here and he had got me with the needle too...

The needle.

My eyes shot up at the two full syringes that rested on the side table. I jumped up and out of the bed. I grabbed the syringe off of the table and removed the cap.

"Our friend won't talk? We'll make him talk" I said devilishly. Sampson's smile quickly turned into an expression of twisted horror as I seized his bound arms, wrenched them above his head and jabbed him with the needle. He tried to squirm free but that only made it more painful for himself as the toxic substance flowed into his bloodstream. I could have beat him some more, maybe shot out his legs, but he could have always lied about the type of coral. I didn't even bother to remove the needle. That bastard deserves every bit of pain I gave him.

Hermann looked shocked at the sudden brutality, as he was used to helping people, not hurting them, no matter who they were. I glanced back at Hermann, but he nodded in response. He opened his satchel and took out his medical case, preparing it for the answer.

"So Sampson, which one is it? Blue or brown?"

Sampson's head hung low, his one card on the table gone.

"Brown.." he muttered.

Hermann quickly combined a few different substances into a vial of clear liquid. He shook the vial and the substances dissolved. He took a clean syringe and removed half of the fluid from the vial.

"Alright, here we go.." the doctor said as he reached for Jen's arm. I grabbed his shoulder.

"Test it on him first, just in case he is lying" I said. If Sampson lied about the type of coral, he would pull away from the needle. I know he wanted to live.

Hermann nodded and reached for Sampson, who was eagerly gesturing for the older man to inject him with the antidote. Sampson sighed in relief.

Hermann looked at me, "He would be having seizures if it was the wrong one"

"Then what are you waiting for old man?" I said quickly. I couldn't see Jen like this for another second.

Hermann put the rest of the antidote into Jen's arm, and her convulsions started to stop. After a minute or two, she was still, her chest slowly rising and falling as her breath evened out.

I clapped Hermann on the shoulder.

I smiled "Aren't you glad you came for dinner?"

-

**1755 hours, February 25 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Scyllion General Hospital, Charybdis IX<strong>

Within twenty minutes the building was under full police control. The body of the security guard was removed by the coroners and the gas was cleared out by the fire department. Hermann and I were questioned and Sampson was apprehended. He is going to jail for life. I was not charged with assault, as it was stopping a threat to national and global security. Surprisingly, they did not find my magnum. Jen was rushed to the hospital and was treated by Doc Fitzgard. I now sat in the chair beside her in the single- bed hospital room, Maddy coloring in a book at the end of bed.

"You're the one who scared me this time" I said as I stroked her blonde hair.

She gave me a sweet smile, "Know you know how I feel when you come home all banged up"

We both laughed quietly. I was 10 days away from deployment, and I had already gotten back into the fight against the Innies. Kind of ironic, you can never escape war.

She turned to me, her green eyes staring up at me "You hear from my parents?" she inquired.

I shook my head, "I'm sure they're just on vacation or something"

Jen opened her mouth to speak as Hermann walked into the room, dressed in his white doctor's coat.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Clarke?" he said with a bit of emphasis on the 'Mrs. Clarke', used to calling her Jen, but he had to keep formalities when it came with his job.

She gave him a soft smile, "I'm fine Hermann. Thank you for what you did for me today, for what you did for us"

The doctor shrugged.

"It's what I do" he said with a smile. Hermann was a good friend, and if it weren't for him, Jen would have died that day.

I checked my wristwatch, 5:59 PM. "Shit, it's time for the news!" I said as I grabbed the clicker and flicked on the TV that was resting on the shelf infront of the bed, preparing for my nightly ritually of watching the news.

That evening, sitting in that room with my wife, my daughter, and Doctor Hermann Fitzgard, February 25th of the year 2525, was the day that changed my life. It was not only the day my wife was almost killed, no. The moment I turned on the television, little did I know that the lives of every human being in all of colonies were about to be changed forever.

The little theme song of the 6 o'clock news came across the screen, and a female news reporter appeared on the screen. She fidgeted nervously as she looked at some papers then looked up at the camera.

"Good evening, my name is Janice Fletcher of C17 news and tonight we have special coverage of a breaking story released by the Office of Naval Intelligence," an image of Harvest popped into a square behind her, "On February 3rd 2525, a freighter above Harvest made contact with an alien civilization calling itself 'The Covenant'. 10 days later, a confrontation on the surface of the agricultural colony turned for the worse as the Harvest Colonial Militia engaged the alien enemies," a video of small, frog-like creatures with cones on their backs infront of a large, ape man came onto the screen, "Two days ago, Harvest was evacuated at the loss of at least 23,000 citizens. After the evacuation, the fate of the planet is unknown"

My mouth was open. Everybody in the room just stared at the videos and images that played across the screen. I cannot remember how long we watched the news for, but I just remember holding Maddy and Jen as I thought about my deployment. As if things weren't complicated enough. Would I be fighting _aliens_?

Aliens, I thought. _The Covenant. _

I owed Mackenzie 5 bucks.

-

_Author's Note:_

_I do apologize for the delay, school and a bit of writer's block tied me up. Here comes the Covenant! Don't forget to review!_

_- Phantogram_


	8. Chapter 8: Get A Penthouse

Chapter 8: Get A Penthouse

**1030 hours, May 18 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Durban, Biko<strong>

We were all fairly talkative inside of pelican's bay.

We had spent months aboard the _Barcelona_, waiting for orders to deploy to some godforsaken planet. We were pleasantly surprised, although a bit shocked, to find out that we would be staying on Biko for the coming months. But this time we didn't think only of rebels, we thought of this new problem, "The Covenant". We had all heard of them, and we had seen the few pictures and videos of them hundreds of times. The little frog aliens with metal cones, the big ape men, the walking birds with shields, and the muscular lizard leaders. We had no idea what they were or what they wanted, but they hated us. We had lost contact with Harvest, and the UNSC is afraid that things might happen to the rest of the Outer Colonies too. That was why we were coming to Biko.

Our pelican drifted down from the clouds and leveled out over the city. The bay door opened to a view of apartment tops as we descended towards the major population center and capital of Durban. Biko was in many ways similar to Charybdis IX, a temperate climate that changed with the seasons. Much of the planet was covered in rolling grasslands, resulting in it becoming one of the largest producers of cattle and meat products in the UNSC.

HIGHCOM was stationing the 3rd and 154th Infantry Divisions on Biko, along with the recovered and refitted 367th Field Artillery Division and the 19th Armored Division. Our mission was to protect and keep order on Biko, and to keep back any rebels who saw weakness on the planet or to stave off any attempt by the Covenant to attack this world. 6th Battalion was given the task to occupy the southern end of Durban, while the 2nd and 5th Battalions would cover the north and east, respectively. The 99th Military Police Battalion, attached to the 3rd Infantry Division, would hold the western part of the city, protecting the 3rd Infantry Division's command center and the parliament building. The 367th would place AA batteries and howitzers throughout Durban, allowing them to provide support to virtually any sector inside or outside of the city. Elements of the 19th Armored Division were also stationed in the capital, although they were also deployed to many of the other population centers on Biko.

It seemed like a well-devised defense strategy. With a battalion's strength of men defending each approach, encasing a full artillery division and having armor support, we were well off in any tactician's book.

I sat in my bucket seat closest to the bay door with my assault rifle across my lap, watching the city go by below us as we approached our landing zone. I never really _liked_ combat, but months of waiting aboard a navy ship got you itching for something to do other than pass time with meager tasks. After all, I had signed up to "Fight with the UNSC". _Fight_. Be it rebels or aliens, I had a job to do and I had to do it right.

I looked at the people sitting in the pelican with me, talking away to each other. Beside me was Mackenzie, as always. The Scot had taken basic medical training over the course of his leave, and had now filled the spot of squad medic, albeit a novice one. Kind of ironic, the loud, obnoxious Scottish man had become a potential lifesaver to many. Mackenzie now sported a helmet with the distinctive red symbol of a red winged rod with snakes coiled around it, along with a compacted medical backpack and a large pouch on his thigh. I had to say, he looked quite impressive. I felt a bit out of place now, I was the only member of the squad without a specialty. It would come in time, I suppose.

Across from me sat Staff Sergeant Rhodes, tapping away on a datapad. Beside him was Valdez, who as always was laughing with Santos, making fun of O'Grady.

O'Grady was taking it like a bitch.

I glanced around at the rest of the people sitting in pelican. I knew almost all of them from our previous deployment on Thern, and three even from before that. The pelican bay was packed, only being able to fit ten, but we had fifteen crammed into the bay. Five people were standing, including 1st Lieutenant Li, the new leader of 2nd Platoon. One of the other squads of 2nd Platoon was lead by the platoon's second-in-command Gunnery Sergeant Michelle Overholt, a well-known figure amongst 6th Battalion. She had short red hair and emerald green eyes, not dissimilar to those of Lieutenant Li's. She commanded our respect, as we had seen her fighting prowess and leadership ability on more than one occasion. New recruits who doubted the leadership of a woman were quickly put into place. Her squad, Bravo Squad, was larger than ours by two. McDermott, Boyle, and Aberdeem I had fought alongside before Thern, they were good friends of mine. Lopes I had met on Thern, and she was nice enough, although quiet. Smith, Makashi and Tyler had all gone six feet under on our last deployment, replaced by fresh-faced recruits whom I had not met. I had a bad tendency of making friends in this war, and when I lost one I took it awfully hard. I had to break that habit, unfortunately.

Mackenzie elbowed me in the ribs, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"Ya alright, Clarke? Ya seem kinda' out of it"

I nodded, "Yeah, i'm just... thinking." I said as I readjusted myself in my seat, feeling the cool air blow in from the open bay door and listening to the whine of the pelican's engines.

"Always a dangerous thing." Mackenzie replied with a smile. I punched his shoulder. Smartass.

I felt the pelican slow down as we dropped down over an apartment building and into a large city square, which had been converted into the main landing zone of the southern part of the city. Technicians were scuttling this way and that, bringing in and directing pelicans all over the place. Transport warthogs were departing and arriving, shuttling troopers to various parts of the city. Hornets, Falcons, and Albatrosses were being tended to by workers, and air crews were preparing their birds for their next flights. Soldiers were organizing themselves as they departed their pelicans, forming into their platoons. It reminded me alot of the makeshift hospital on Thern, although scenes like this were common in all UNSC deployments.

Our pelican swooped down and lazily turned as it came in for a landing. It's landing gears extended, it touched down without a problem, dropping it's bay ramp. We all stood up and exited the bay into the morning sun. I stretched my legs as we stepped onto the asphalt, hefting my assault rifle over my shoulder. I took in the scene around me.

The bustling square was bringing in 6th Battalion, consisting of two companies of roughly three hundred men each, which each spit into four platoons of seventy five, which finally divided down to between eight or ten squads. Military structure took a bit of getting used to, but it was useful to know to any fighting soldier. We had about 1250 men and women stationed throughout Durban, and another 7000 in other population centers. That was just from the 3rd Infantry Division, another 900 from the 367th Field Artillery, and 200 from the 19th Armored Division, made close to 2500 UNSC servicemembers defending the capital. With close to 21,000 soldiers fighting across the globe, any alien invaders would get one helluva fight.

"Nice town." Valdez remarked as he found his way towards me and Mackenzie. The Martian had gotten married to his fiancé Shannon while he was on leave, and had the wedding band to prove it. Jen, Maddy, and I had traveled all the way to Mars for the wedding, being the only time in my leave that I had seen the other squad members and introduced them to my family. Mackenzie, Santos and his family, and even Sergeant Rhodes and his wife had made their way out for the ceremony.

"Aye, where is the nearest pub?" Mackenzie replied, totally serious.

I glanced over it him, "You're joking, right?"

"A man's gotta' drink!" Mackenzie exclaimed, giving an innocent gesture.

Valdez shook his head, "Dude, you're not even Irish..."

Mackenzie shrugged, "I have ta get my needs met, smokes, women, and booze."

"Yeah, why don't you go and try to get Gunny Overholt, _amigo_? She has one great ass." Santos said, creeping into the conversation.

"Yeah, why dun' ya go get a feckin' pizza, amigo," Mackenzie stressed the Spanish word, "You've got one fat ass."

"I'm not fat, bro, i'm fluffy." Santos said defensively.

Everyone laughed at that. The mood was pretty good, better make the most of it before God-knows-what happens.

The pelican emptied the rest of it's contents and lifted off towards the _Barcelona_, preparing to bring down the next group of troopers. We watched as it disappeared above the clouds, towards the frigate hovering in low orbit. Five other navy vessel had accompanied the _Barcelona_, who brought in the 1st Regiment of the 3rd Infantry Division. The UNSC frigates _Sweet Honolulu _and _Artemis' Arrow _brought in the 2nd Regiment of the 3rd Infantry Division and the 19th Armored Division, respectively. The carrier _Ottawa_ transported in the 367th Field Artillery and their guns, as they required a large ship to transport them all. Finally, a fast-attack corvette, the _Nightengale_, was provided to help defend the battlegroup from any outside attacks. It was a sound cause for the UNSC to put together this force to hold Biko. With the sudden "disappearance" of Harvest, the UNSC was in danger of facing food shortages. Biko provided a large portion of meat to the rest of the colonies, and if it met the same fate as Harvest, whatever it's fate was, the UNSC would have a big problem on it's plate, no pun intended.

"Charlie Squad, we're Oscar Mike!" Rhodes shouted from behind us.

We moved at a brisk jog towards the Staff Sergeant, who was climbing into the driver's seat of a transport warthog.

"Gonna' be a bit of a squeeze for two of you boys." the Sergeant said, firing up the engine of the 3-tonne beast.

"I call shotgun!" Mackenzie shouted, putting his MA5B assault rifle onto it's magnetic strip on his back and sprinting around to the passenger's seat. Valdez, Santos, and I piled into the roll cage of the 'Hog, I took the seat closest to us, behind Rhodes.

Valdez looked around, then spoke up, "Yo Sarge, where the fuck is O'Grady?"

Rhodes turned around in his seat, "He's not with you guys?"

We all shook our heads simultaneously.

As if on cue, O'Grady came waddling out of the crowd, a large duffel bag in hand. "There you guys are! I was looking everywhere for you, I had to get my stuff and the lines were just bru-"

"O'Grady, shut the fuck up and get in." Mackenzie said nonchalantly, almost cheerily. The rookie passed his bag and his assault rifle up to Valdez, who moved over to give the kid a bit of room.

"Now have we got everybody?" Rhodes asked.

"Everybody used the bathroom?" Mackenzie added sarcastically.

Everyone snickered at the joke. Usually you wouldn't make jokes about a superior's command, but in our squad, nobody really cared when we were just kidding around. Rhodes did it alot, too. It was all just routine for us to poke fun at each other. It had got us through alot, just those little breaks of comic relief.

Sergeant Rhodes pulled out of the square and down a city street. Every street in Durban was filled with those downtown buildings and apartments you found in almost every major population center anywhere. It wasn't a spectacular city, it was the same as virtually every other downtown I had ever been in. The streets were still filled with people, however. It seemed like the citizens of Biko didn't even care that a large UNSC occupational force suddenly arrived on their doorstep. Sure, we got alot of people staring and talking to each other about us, but they carried on with their day-to-day lives as usual. I wondered if they had received the news of the Covenant as the rest of the Inner Colonies had.

"What is this Covenant stuff anyways? They're a bunch of aliens, but like, what do they want?" O'Grady asked as we drove through another city block.

"Nobody knows, apparently they don't even know what happened to Harvest." Santos replied.

It was true. As far as we knew, the navy hadn't even gone out to investigate Harvest. Rumors were spreading though that they sent one ship, and it never returned. I'm sure some of the spooks over at ONI knew what was going down, but as far as us ground soldiers, we knew nothing.

Mackenzie took a cigarette out of a pack and lit it, taking a few drags of it and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. He offered one to the Sergeant, who nodded and had Mackenzie place it in the corner of his mouth and light it for him.

"They want humans dead, for some reason. ONI received a message from them saying that our 'destruction is the will of the Gods' or some shit like that. They think it's a religious thing, but it's weird how they sent a message in perfect English."

I took this information in. They obviously wouldn't speak the same languages as us, but it was strange indeed how they could send a message in English.

"Must've been studying us for some time, then" I said, leaning back against the chair of the roll cage.

Santos shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "What else do they know then?"

Valdez snorted, "Enough to kill you, man."

We drove through the downtown traffic for another few blocks before rounding a corner and driving down a long road that lead into yet another large square. This one seemed to have been converted to a motorpool, with dozens of Warthogs of all variants, Scorpion tanks, Wolverines, Gremlins, and even an Elephant Mobile Command Center occupied this space. The Square was surrounded by towering hotels, and many troopers, artillery, tank, and air crewmen were lounging around the square, repairing vehicles, or attending to their duties. Even a few navy members were walking in or out of the hotels.

"Navy boys staying long?" Valdez inquired, his muscular frame crunched up against the roll cage from being in such close contact with O'Grady.

Rhodes glanced up to the sky, and then back to the front of the warthog, passing a military police barricade, "They're just coming for a visit."

We all looked up to the sky to see the _Sweet Honolulu_ in-atmosphere, hovering some distance above Durban. It was quite a sight to see a frigate this close, in space you couldn't really get the perspective of it, but from the ground you could really see how big it was.

A corporal approached our vehicle as we came to a stop in the motorpool.

"I'll take it from here, Sarge." the corporal said as we got out of the vehicle, O'Grady pulling his bag out of the back.

"Much obliged, corporal" the Sergeant said, walking past him as he drove off in our warthog.

"This where we crashing, Sarge?" Valdez asked as we came up beside Rhodes, staring up at the hotel.

"Yep."

We all looked up at the huge hotel. Wealthy businessmen stayed here, most of our boys from the more isolated colonies would never sleep in a place like this. Thats not what got our attention though. Windows were opened and heavy fifty caliber machine guns rested on sandbags, and snipers were sitting in strategic positions throughout the building. Surface to-Air-Missiles were set up on top of the hotels, and spotters were scanning the horizon for any sign of an attack.

"Expecting somebody?" I asked.

Rhodes shrugged, "Between rebels and aliens, who knows?"

We all walked towards this hotel we were staying in. I checked my mission clock, it read 1103. It was still morning, although I was starting to get pretty tired. We had moved out at 2200 hours last night to get ready to come down to the planet, and all the sleeping I got on leave and during the months aboard the ship, I got out of my combat cycle of sleeping. I'm sure I would get back into that all too soon.

We approached the entrance to the hotel closest to us that we were staying in. Above the doors, "Royal House" was displayed in big, fancy letters. The Royal House chain was huge across all of the colonies, and was known as a luxury even to the rich. Planetary occupation had some benefits, I suppose.

We entered through the automatic doors of the hotel and into a massive lobby, adorned with gilded frames, valuable paintings, and a huge crystal chandelier. The floors and walls were all made out of marble. It was quite impressive. The lobby was filled with people going about their business, finding their rooms and the like. Gunny Overholt was tapping away at a datapad behind the mahogany front desk, along with a few other troopers with a significant rank.

We approached the desk, and the Gunnery Sergeant raised her head and looked at Sergeant Rhodes, who was resting his arms on the desk.

"Staff Sergeant Rhodes, you've decided to show up," the Gunny said as she returned to whatever was on her datapad, "this is Hotel Romeo, your new home on Biko. Alpha Company is in this building and the Staussenberg Hotel next door, Bravo company in the two hotels across the street. Have whatever room that isn't taken. Report to Lieutenant Li once you're settled."

Sergeant Rhodes gave a half-ass, two fingered salute, almost casually, "Will do, Gunny."

We started to walk away from the desk when Overholt called back, "And Staff Sergeant, be quick." Rhodes waved her off dismissively. Apparently the two were friends in basic training, but Rhodes looked alot older than her.

"Get a penthouse! Get a penthouse! Get a penthouse!" Mackenzie was chanting as I pressed the button to call the elevator.

The doors opened and two airmen walked out, allowing the six of us to cram into the luxurious elevator. Mackenzie kept chanting, "Get a penthouse! Get a penthouse! Get a pent-"

Santos punched him in the groin. Mackenzie groaned as he doubled over, grabbing his man parts. There was a piece of protective armor there, but it still would've hurt nonetheless.

Santos spread his arms innocently, "_Senor_ wouldn't shut up!"

Valdez grabbed Mackenzie by the collar and hoisted him up, "Stop being a little bitch," the muscular man said, "but Santos, that was a pussy move."

"Get a feckin' penthouse..." Mackenzie whined again. A battle-hardened group of UNSC Army Troopers were reduced to a group of immature people in the elevator of a hotel, punching each other in the groin and whining about penthouses. I leaned against the wall and rolled my eyes.

"Just get a penthouse Sarge, he's acting like a bitch, so we'll treat him like a bitch." I said with a smirk. I could be a smartass too. Rhodes pressed the 40th floor, the top of the building.

Everybody laughed but Mackenzie. The doors opened with a _ding! _and we all exited.

"Ach, everybody jus' rip on the good ol' Mackenzie." the Scotsman said as we walked into a large marble hallway.

O'Grady approached an ornate carved mahogany door and twisted the handle, "This one is unlocked."

We followed the rookie into the room and our mouths dropped open. The room was massive. A huge glass pentagon encased the room, with hanging lights illuminating the elegant space. Luxurious satin and mahogany gilded furniture served as the room's decor, along with a large kitchen and a large bar.

"Hooah, dis' is te good shite!" Mackenzie said as he dropped his rifle onto the couch and approached the bar, choosing carefully a bottle of whiskey.

"Don't kill yourself, Mack" I said with a laugh. The Scotsman poured himself a shot of whiskey and turned to us.

"Drinks? 'Tis on me!" Mackenzie laughed. He loved booze.

"Holy shit... the rooms are huge!" Santos shouted as he and O'Grady explored the other rooms.

"Easy in there you two, don't go crazy." Valdez said sarcastically, putting his things down on the counter of the kitchen.

I sat down on a couch and groaned, I hadn't sat in something this comfortable in a _long_ time. "I thought it was a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy Sarge?" Mackenzie burst out into laughter, spewing alcohol all over the wall of the bar. Rhodes and Valdez joined in.

"I heard that, Clarke you asshole!" Santos shouted angrily. Everyone roared with laughter even more, except Mackenzie.

The Scottish man was standing near the window, staring at the sky in the distance. He dropped his shot glass and it shattered into a million pieces on the floor.

I was facing away from Mackenzie, but the expressions on Valdez and Rhodes' faces told me that whatever they were looking at was definitely not good. I turned and looked over the back of the couch, out one of the huge panels that made up the glass pentagon surrounding the penthouse. I gazed up into the late morning sky and what I saw would stay with me for the rest of my life. The _Sweet Honolulu_ was ripped down her midsection, fire blossoming along her flanks. She groaned loudly as she bent upwards, plumes of flame jetting out as she fell apart in-atmosphere. She resisted for a moment, but finally she was severed in defeat, two halves falling into the endless grasslands of Biko.

"What the fuck man..." Valdez uttered softly, speaking for the rest of us. O'Grady came out of the back bedroom, full of smiles.

"Guys, you have to see the-" the rookie's smile quickly vanished as he too saw the frigate plummeting to her death. He stood there in silence, mouth agape, along with the rest of us. Santos soon followed into the living area, arms full of shampoos and body soaps.

"Why is everybody so quiet?" the Hispanic man said. I turned to him, my face probably white as a ghost, and pointed out the window without a word. Santos dropped the bottles of luxury body washes and did the same as the rest of us, staring into the sky.

It was Mackenzie who broke the silence, "What the feck just happened?"

His question was soon answered as the image that would stay with me forever was initially burned into my memory. A large, purple-armored starship poked out of the clouds. It looked like a big shark-whale, totally streamlined. Elegant, but deadly. It came in above the wrecked remains of the frigate, like a lion over it's fallen prey. The TACCOM was lit up with thousands of men and women asking the same questions as we were, what the fuck is going on? I took off my helmet for my sanity's sake. The first time I had ever seen anything Covenant was on that day. What did they want with us? I was scared, if they could do that to a UNSC frigate without us even noticing it was there made me think, as much as I didn't want to, of what they could do on the ground.

Staff Sergeant Rhodes was the first to regain his senses, "It's the Covenant. Grab your gear, Charlie Squad. We're Oscar Mike." Rhodes picked up his assault rifle and slung the strap over his shoulder. Finally knocked back into reality, we all got up and packed our things as fast as we could. I put my helmet back on and followed Rhodes to the door.

"The aliens are here already?" O'Grady exclaimed, walking into the hallway with Staff Sergeant Rhodes. The squad jogged quickly to the elevator along with dozens of other troopers who were staying on our level.

"I don't know, O'Grady. Does that ship look human to you?" I said sarcastically as the elevator doors opened. We reached the lobby and hundreds of troopers were pouring out of the doors, forming up into their platoons. We walked into the square and saw Lieutenant Li standing in the driver's seat of a LAAG Warthog with Gunnery Sergeant Overholt in the passenger seat, amongst the massive crowds of soldiers scrambling to get organized.

"Alpha Company, Second Platoon, form up!" the Asian officer barked. We didn't really form up, the 10 squads of Second Platoon kind of just clustered around the front of Li's Warthog. Shit was about to go down, and we needed to get all the details.

"Our navy boys just got hit, looks like the aliens followed us here," Li began, "We're moving out to Juravinski Boulevard to the south, reports are coming in from our recon teams that the aliens have deployed on the ground all over the planet. We need to get the civvies off this planet, and we're going to help them do just that. These inhuman sonsofbitches don't like us? They're about to see what happens when they piss off the UNSC Army!"

Li's remark was met by the cheers of Second Platoon, including mine. "Mount up Charlie Squad!" Rhodes ordered as we scrambled to our Warthogs parked in the motorpool. I hopped into the passenger's seat of one Warthog with Santos driving and Valdez on the LAAG. Mackenzie drove the other 'Hog with O'Grady riding shotgun and Rhodes on the turret. We joined the convoy of vehicles moving out of the motorpool and down a south street. The alien ship was hovering low in the distance, and I enhanced the zoom on my helmet monocle to get a closer look. Hundreds of little dots, what looked like purple aircraft, were exiting the bottom portion of the warship. Some of them were larger than the others, and the little ones moved faster than the bigger ones, trailing two little whites lines of what looked like water vapor behind them.

The buildings along the sides of the street got lower and lower as we made our way further into the outskirts of Durban. Civilians were being ushered along by the military police, alot of them looked panicked as they had seen the unknown vessel appear above their city.

"Where are they taking them?" O'Grady asked over the TEAMCOM.

"Probably to the square that we came in on. Trying to evac them to the frigates." Rhodes answered as we watched the lines of thousands of people move down the sidewalks. Durban had a population of around 130,000. If the air crews couldn't get them out fast enough, the death toll would be staggering if the aliens got into the city. I wondered how they followed us here, we jumped right to Biko. I thought about the technology they might have. People used to say that if aliens had the technology to find us, then they had the technology to kill us. With the expansion of humans to hundreds of colonies, I wasn't really surprised that aliens had actually found us. They followed us here though, and they wanted us dead. We'll see how this turns out.

We broke off from the main convoy and followed the rest of 2nd Platoon down a side road and down another street, Juravinski Boulevard. The boulevard dipped down slightly, but for the most part it was flat, lined with two-story brick stores on both sides. The second stories were most likely residential levels, where shop owners or renters lived. We pulled our warthog along with the twenty-seven other warthogs of Second Platoon into an underground parking lot, and dismounted in the dark, cool underground. Second Platoon was slightly larger than most platoons, consisting of 81 men and women. If that number would be enough to hold this street, we would soon find out. The platoon divided into their squads and got their weapons ready, while some people picked up small crates filled with ammunition and support weapons. we had five radio operators in our platoon, and they took their gear out of the rear of the warthogs and had help putting them on their backs.

"Did you guys see the _Honolulu _go down? It was fucking nuts." Aberdeem from Bravo Squad asked me as I slapped a new magazine into my assault rifle.

I smirked and gave the Indian man a short laugh, "Yeah, we got a penthouse."

Once everyone was ready, Lieutenant Li spoke up.

"Alright Second Platoon, lets move." Lieutenant Li said as we jogged towards the entrance of the underground parking lot. We emerged into the sunlight and quickly took stock of the situation. Juravinski Boulevard ran north to south, so the aliens would most likely be advancing from the opposite end of the street. Three enclosed footbridges ran over the street between some buildings, which I assumed would make good defensive positions.

Lieutenant Li quickly conversed with the squad leaders, pointing to specific buildings and footbridges. Once all of the squad leaders knew what they were supposed to do, they broke away from the group and returned to their men. Staff Sergeant Rhodes approached us.

"Alright boys, the El-Tee wants us on the second floor of that building right over there," Rhodes pointed to a run-down looking red brick convenience store between first and second footbridges, "Santos, go with the rest of the demolition team and get some C4 on those buildings at the end of the street, then return to us."

We all nodded in acknowledgement and double-timed it to the building, watching Santos' large figure run down the street with the rest of the demolition specialists. Machine gun crews with heavy fifties or the tripod-mounted AIE-486H heavy machine guns positioned themselves in the windows of the footbridges, breaking the glass and laying down sandbags for optimal firing. We reached the glass door of the convenience store and walked in, weapons raised. The lights were still on, but it was unnecessary due to the midday sun streaming through the front window.

Mackenzie nodded towards the racks of food, "Looks like we wont go hungry."

Valdez snorted, "With Santos here, maybe we will." Rhodes shot them both a dangerous stare, silencing them. We moved towards the door leading to the back room, Rhodes and Valdez taking positions on either side of the door. We kicked in the door and entered tactically, making sure the ground floor was clear before moving up the stairs to the residential level. The second floor had old wooden floors and whitewashed walls, containing three bedrooms on the right side of the hallway, and a bathroom at the end. We entered the three rooms, and got three shouts of "Clear!". We regrouped in the hallway as Santos came thudding up the stairs, joining the group.

"Alright Charlie Squad, the aliens will be advancing from the southern end of the street," Rhodes began, "We've got our squads dotted in buildings throughout the street. HQ is the second building from the end on the side, north approach. We don't know what kind of weapons the aliens have or their numbers. Keep it together, we'll get through this in one piece. Valdez and O'Grady, you're in the room closest to the stairs. Mackenzie and Clarke, second room. Santos and I will take up the room at the end of the hallway. Clear?"

"Clear." we all said in unison.

Rhodes looked at us with a determined gaze, "Good. Get moving Charlie Squad, the aliens will be here any moment." We all moved into our designated rooms. Mackenzie and I entered the second bedroom. It had a large queen-sized bed with an old area rug underneath. A dresser lay up against the opposite wall, while a side table with a lamp sat beside the bed. Two windows were situated on the opposite side of the room.

"Cozy." I remarked, looking at the room around me. It reminded me of home, sparsely furnished but still homey. It wasn't really Jen's style, but she wouldn't have minded if we lived here. I smiled softly to myself, I missed Jen and Maddy terribly. I had thought about them alot, but not about how much I missed them. If I thought about how much I missed them, that would be all I thought about, and that affected me in combat. I always kept in mind that I was doing this for them. Mackenzie and I each took a window and opened the double panels, resting our assault rifles on their sills. I aimed my rifle down the street and we waited in silence for close to ten minutes. I saw the figures of troopers doing the same thing as us all down the street. At 1211 hours, I saw movement at the bottom of the street. The SQUADCOM crackled to life with the voice of Lieutenant Li. 

"Alright boys and girls, this is it! Wait for them to advance towards the first footbridge, then give 'em hell!"

"I still would've preferred the penthouse." Mackenzie said nonchalantly.

I fidgeted nervously as I crouched behind the window sill, assault rifle at the ready. I always got nervous before a battle, but this was different. This was an unknown enemy, with unknown weapons and unknown tactics. These weren't rebels, these were fucking _aliens_. I reached into my breast pocket and removed a folded piece of laminated cardstock. I unfolded it and stared at the picture. It was of me, Jen, and Maddy on a beach in Emerald Cove two years ago. We all looked so happy, smiling and laughing. Oh, how much i'd give to relive that day. I folded the picture up and placed it back in my pocket, aiming down the street once more.

"Hey, James?" Mackenzie spoke from behind me.

"Is this really the time for conversation, Mack?" I responded, not taking my eyes off of the growing figures at the end of the street. Dozens of the little frogs with metal backpacks advanced up the street, followed by the birds with shields and the muscular lizards bringing up the rear. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. So this was the Covenant, I thought to myself. Never did I guess i'd see aliens in my lifetime. I was scared, who knew what these things could do. A big, hovering, blue bulbous vehicle floated sideways into view at the end of the street, followed by faster hovering purple vehicles with the frog aliens on them. What the fuck is this shit? Nobody made a sound, and the MG crews hid behind the sills of the footbridge windows, waiting for the order to open fire.

Mackenzie continued on talking, "Do you remember the bet we had back on Thern?" he said softly.

I gripped my assault rifle tighter and shifted nervously, "Uhm... yeah, about aliens right?"

The SQUADCOM came alive with Lieutenant Li's barking voice, "Open fire! Open fire!" I racked the bolt on my assault rifle and heard Mackenzie do the same.

"You still owe me five bucks!" Mackenzie shouted from behind me.

I aimed towards the street ahead of me, and we let 'em have it.


	9. Chapter 9: Charlie Foxtrot

Chapter 9: Charlie Foxtrot

**1215 hours, May 18 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Durban, Biko<strong>

We opened up on the aliens advancing on the street below.

The MG teams on the first footbridge ripped into their ranks with their heavy machine guns, cutting down the little frogs and catching a few of the ones with shields, exposing them to the fire coming from the troopers holed up in the buildings. I squeezed off a few short bursts of my assault rifle and brought down one of the little aliens. They were flesh, I thought to myself. They weren't indestructible, they were _killable_. We caught the alien group off guard and they fell my the lot. The big lizards, however, were not harmed by our bullets. Our shots seemed to be deflected by some kind of shimmering aura surrounding them. Once the aliens realized what was going on, they reorganized and returned fire.

They leveled their strange blue and purple weapons at the first footbridge and unleashed streams of what looked like blue and green fire bolts, along with pink crystalline spikes that washed over the outside of the footbridge as the MG teams ducked behind the sills.

Mackenzie slapped a new mag into his assault rifle, "Jesus feckin' Christ! What type of weapons are those? Ray guns?"

I had no idea. Whatever they were, they were alot stronger than our own weapons, "No fucking clue, keep firing!"

Their infantry parted towards the sides of the street and allowed their big vehicle and the four smaller ones to advance in front of them, giving them some sort of cover. The big tank-looking vehicle pivoted it's main gun, and spat a big blue ball of fire at the first footbridge. The three MG crews had no time to react as the "fire" melted away the front portion of the bridge. Men screamed in agony as they were burned by whatever substance the aliens were using, some falling from the twenty-foot high bridge and into the advancing alien line. We watched as they landed, breaking bones as the hit the pavement.

"Shite! 'Tis like a bloody tank!" Mackenzie blurted as he started to increase the rate of fire he was putting out of his assault rifle. The alien tank hadn't spotted us yet, although the midday sun was beaming down on our side of the boulevard.

The smaller purple vehicles accelerated ahead with a low warbling, droning noise and fired upon the buildings between the first and second footbridges. Windows were shattered as the alien weaponsfire sailed towards the building's occupants, men and women falling silently as they were hit. The second line of MG crews tore into the alien fast-attack vehicles, ripping through their armor. One of the heavy .50 caliber bullets blasted through the side wing of the closest purple-alloyed hovercraft, and the vehicle skittered to the ground and was instantly destroyed by the combined fire. The vehicle brewed up in a blue explosion, the chassis of the vehicle flying through the air and through the front window of one of the stores opposite us. The destruction of the vehicle was instantly met with the brief whoops and hollers of 2nd Platoon.

The enemy "tank" and the rest of the infantry was almost at the remains of the first footbridge. Surviving troopers from the first line of machine guns tried helplessly to crawl out of the street, but were met by the little aliens and ravenously jumped on a ripped apart, limb from limb. I turned away as their shrieks joined the chorus of automatic and alien fire.

"Oh my God..." I uttered as the little aliens kept up the advance, blood smeared all over their arms, bodies, and faces. Mackenzie held back his vomit as we continued to shoot. The aliens were not only hateful, but merciless as well.

"Detonate the C4, now!" Lieutenant Li screamed over the TACCOM. The vacant buildings next to the approaching line of aliens exploded outwards, sending brick, rebar, wood, and glass came raining down on the aliens. The buildings in front of the first footbridge collapsed inwards and into each other. The majority of the little aliens were not fast enough to get out of the way of the collapsing buildings, and close to fifty of them were crushed by the downfall of rubble. Most of the shield birds and the big lizards, however, quickly avoided the collapsing structures. The tank and the little vehicles narrowly avoided the explosion.

Now that they were virtually outside of our building, I could really see the aliens up close. The little aliens were not really little at all, almost the size of a full-grown man. They made up the bulk of the alien infantry, and some of them wore red or white armor, while most of them wore orange and a few with heavy guns wore green. They had masks on their faces for some reason, and big cones on their backs. I aimed by assault rifle at the nearest one and sent a group of 7.62mm rounds into it's red-armored chest. It squealed and fell to the ground, blue blood spattering on the pavement. One of lizards clad in white armor which I assumed to be the leader of this group, warbled something in it's native tongue and pointed at our building. The enemy tank turned in our direction.

"OH FUCK! GET INTO THE HALLWAY!" I screamed into the TEAMCOM as I grabbed Mackenzie by the collar and dragged him out of the room and into the corridor. The rest of the squad dove out of their rooms, hitting the floor and covering their heads. We heard the _whoosh_ as the tank fired it's payload, burning through the air and crashing into the storefront. The doors swung open violently as the building was hit, dust falling down from the ceiling as we cowered on the floor.

I looked up and to my left through the door into the bedroom we were once in. I could clearly see out of what was once the outside wall, the entire face of the building totally destroyed.

We all got to our feet shakily. O'Grady was panicking, "Holy fucking shit man! Fucking aliens shoot explosive fire! First Innies, now fucking aliens, we can't do this man!"

Rhodes approached him and shook him by his shoulders, "Snap out of it Specialist! The building's still standing and we're still in one piece, we can still kick some ass." The Sergeant picked up O'Grady's fallen MA5B and passed it to him. The sound of the battle still raged on outside.

Valdez peered through the far door, "Oh fuck guys, better take a look at this."

We all slammed up against the wall and looked through the doors. Outside, the alien force was pushing up towards the second footbridge. But that wasn't our concern, as bad as it was. The aliens were advancing towards _our_ building, almost reaching the front door. Mackenzie let out a stream of colorful Scottish profanity.

Rhodes was immediately barking orders, "Valdez, get the stairs. Mackenzie, you cover him. O'Grady, you're with me. Santos, plant claymores in the back room downstairs, Clarke you go with him. Move, move!"

We all instantly sprang into action as Mackenzie, Valdez, Santos and I made for the stairs. We all clomped down the steps, Valdez pumping his M90 shotgun, "We'll cover you boys."

Santos and I nodded as we made for the door. We leaned up against either side of the frame, Santos signaling me to breach. Santos grabbed the door handle and we entered, weapons at the ready. Blue and green bolts flew over our heads as we ducked and made for the front desk infront of us, returning fire as we went. Three of the little aliens came through the obliterated storefront, but quickly fell under our combined fire.

"Santos, get up there and plant those claymores, we'll cover you!" I yelled at the Hispanic man as I ducked under another blue bolt. The big Madrigalian was surprisingly nimble, and bolted towards the front of the store, taking cover behind store shelves as he went.

"Big boy is pretty fast." Valdez remarked, pulling out his M6 sidearm and popping another frog alien in the head.

"He's lighter, hasn't eaten in a while." Mackenzie replied with a laugh. Santos dove under the concrete base of the front window, pulling out a claymore and placing it next to the front door, extending it's "legs". He pulled the priming pin out and ran back into cover, placing more claymores on either sides of the aisles.

Four of the bird aliens and a blue-armored lizard took notice of all the frogs piling up in the entrance of the convenience store. Fire from Rhodes and O'Grady above kept them in cover behind parked cars outside, although the big lizards steadily returned fire.

The bigger aliens started to fire upon the store, I downed another two frogs as they approached the storefront, "Santos, get your ass back here!"

Santos was hiding behind a shelf full of bread and other grains, tapping away at a small demolition datapad, "Im coming _hombre_, i'm just setting up the detonator!"

Valdez slapped another magazine into his magnum, "Set it up faster, we've got trouble!"

Santos quickly inputted a few more commands and tucked the datapad into his breast pocket, snatching up his assault rifle and running back towards us. We covered his return, as now the shield birds were upon us. Santos hopped over a fallen shelf and hit the ground instantly, screaming in pain. One of the birds had shot his hip, burning through the fabric and into the skin underneath.

"OH SHIT! FUCKING MOTHER!" Santos screamed profanity as he lay on the floor of the convenience store, right under the firefight between both us and the aliens.

"Santos has been hit, I repeat, Santos has been hit!" I shouted over the TEAMCOM. I turned to Valdez and Mackenzie, who both had a look of shock on their faces. Our comrade was down in the direct line of fire of these new enemies. Without even thinking I slid over the countertop and was moving from shelf to shelf, adrenaline pumping through my body. I reached Santos, and grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into an aisle.

"Santos! Are you alright? Can you move?" I shouted in his face over the sounds of the battle.

"I can't walk, _senor_!" Santos said through gritted teeth. This was bad. The aliens were almost through the front of the store and it would be impossible to get help from other squads. We were on our own. I hoisted Santos to his feet and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, handing him his assault rifle. I placed my weapon on it's magnetic strip on the back of my armor, and took my magnum out of it's holster.

"Mack, Valdez! Get frags out the front!" I yelled as I moved as fast as I could back towards the desk, firing my magnum as we went. Santos pulled off a few bursts, but he was in too much pain to aim correctly. The two troopers behind the desk lobbed fragmentation grenades across the store and out of the front, detonating at the feet of the shield birds. The bony aliens were obliterated by the explosions, adding their four corpses to the growing pile outside of the store. I went straight for the door to the back room and entered with Mackenzie and Valdez behind me.

Santos started to slump towards the ground, "Santos, stay with me buddy." I slapped his chubby face as we kept moving towards the stairs.

"Get 'em up the stairs quicktime." Mackenzie said as we reached the first steps. Valdez was still at the door, blasting away with his shotgun.

Valdez pumped his shotgun and fired again, removing the head of a frog-alien in a mist of blue blood, "Faster boys, bastards just keep coming."

I looked over my shoulder and shouted, "Valdez, shut the door and push that fridge infront of it, that should keep them out for a while!" The muscular African American slammed the door and locked it, and pushed the fridge infront of it. The high-pitched barks and squeals of the gas mask-wearing aliens came through the door as they tried to break through. Time was of the essence.

Mackenzie helped me get Santos to the top of the stairs, bringing him towards the end of the hallway and leaning him against the wall. Rhodes emerged from the bedroom, assault rifle firing away. He knelt down beside me and Mackenzie and removed Santos' helmet.

"What the fuck happened?" the Sergeant asked as Mackenzie examined the wound on Santos' hip. It wasn't a normal wound, relatively speaking. Where Santos had been it the wound was cauterized, the fabric of his uniform fusing into his flesh and blackening. It looked revolting, worse than a bullet wound by far.

Mackenzie rummaged through his bag and took out some gauze, antiseptic, and a pair of medical scissors. He tried picking the fabric out, but it was literally embedded in his flesh. He disinfected the wound as Santos groaned in pain, "This is bad shit, _amigos_."

I turned to the Sergeant, "Fucking bird things down there got him after he planted the claymores. Valdez is down there keeping them at bay."

Rhodes spoke into the TEAMCOM, "Valdez, what's the situation like down there?"

The TEAMCOM was filled with the noise of the alien's weapons and the repeated gnashing of Valdez's shotgun, "Not good Sarge! The little guys keep on coming, they burned through the door and more of the bird-things and lizards are out front, we need to get the fuck out of here!"

The Sergeant looked at me, "Alright, get your ass back up here double-time." Rhodes patted around Santos' chest and removed the detonator and handed it to me, "When I give you the go, blow those bastards to kingdom come."

I took the palm detonator and I nodded, following Rhodes back into the far bedroom where O'Grady was cowering behind an overturned desk, blind firing over the top. We slid into cover with the rookie, and I stared the kid right in the eyes. He was scared shitless. Rebels were one thing, but these were aliens, and in this battle we were all rookies.

I grabbed his shoulder and shouted, "You still with us O'Grady?" The blonde-haired kid looked me in the eye and nodded hesitantly. I clapped him on the shoulder and fired at the aliens outside of our store. 2nd Platoon was in a bad spot. I could make out squads in other buildings facing similar situations as us, while others I could only see the dark silhouettes of human bodies motionless on the floor. The alien offensive had already pushed up between the first and second footbridges right outside of our building. I looked to the left and saw a line of troopers at the top of the street, firing down the slope and trying to keep the aliens down. The only way we would have an even remote chance of living is if we could make it to that defensive line. _But that fucking tank was in the way. _

"Charlie Foxtrot!" Valdez yelled over the TEAMCOM.

O'Grady glanced at me, like a little boy looking to his mother for an answer to a difficult question.

"Clusterfuck. And he's right," I responded through gritted teeth.

Rhodes put his hand to his ear and spoke into the TACCOM, "Outlaw this is Charlie Two-Three, we have a man down and Tangos in the perimeter, we need immediate assistance, over?" Lieutenant Li's voice came over our radio headsets, "Charlie Two-Two this is Outlaw, we are pinned down on the street and are unable to help you. You'll have to find your own way to our position, out." Rhodes cursed under his breath.

I glanced over at the Sergeant, who was blasting away with his assault rifle, "Sarge, we need to get out of here! We cannot hold this position much longer!"

Rhodes barred his teeth and brought down another frog alien, "I fucking know that Clarke, i'm thinking!" The Sergeant looked around the half-remaining room, then back into the hallway where Mackenzie was treating Santos' wound.

"Mack, hows Santos holding up?" he shouted over his shoulder. The Scotsman turned to Rhodes, "Laddie's holdin' up, but he won't be able ta walk without help."

The Sergeant made for the door, "Good enough, I'll carry him. O'Grady, Clarke, lets move." Rhodes helped Santos to his feet and put the Hispanic man's arm around his shoulders.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Sarge?" Santos said as he held his assault rifle in one hand. We all had the same question on our mind, but nobody dared to ask. Santos' pain made him a bit more carefree when it came to questioning a superior's actions.

The Sergeant helped Santos to the top of the L-shaped stairs where Valdez was killing aliens as they came up. The platform between the two flights of stairs was filled with the remains of the little frogs, and even a shield bird. Luminescent blue and dark purple blood covered the steps, making it a bit slick to as you placed your foot on it. "Getting out of here, now lets go!"

The Sergeant turned to me, standing at behind him with O'Grady and Mackenzie, "On my mark, set off those claymores," I fumbled with the digital detonator as I pulled it out of my pocket, "Three... two... one... mark."

I pushed the red button under the screen. Multiple explosions went off downstairs as the claymores exploded, sending dust and debris up the stairs. We covered our eyes and bolted down the stairs and through the dust. The cries and squeals of the aliens as they lay wounded on the floor filled the air as we stepped over them, quickly making for the obliterated front wall. We emerged into the sunlight, the aliens outside still slightly dazed from the explosion.

"Go! Go! Go!" Rhodes screamed as we made our way up the sidewalk in front of the stores on our side of the street. We stuck close to Rhodes, who was supporting Santos at a brisk pace. The cars and mailboxes along the side of the road provided sufficient cover as we made our way under the second footbridge. Just as we reached the halfway point between the second and third bridges, the alien tank fired and obliterated the second line of elevated machine guns.

"Feck me sideways, our boys are getting bloody mangled!" Mackenzie shouted, firing into a group of shield birds.

Valdez pivoted on one foot and sent a shotgun slug towards the nearest lizard-man, it's aura flickering and disappearing as the alien recoiled from the blast. Taking two massive steps forward, the CQB specialist blasted a hole clean through the tall alien's torso, "Thats what happens when you fuck with a Martian!"

Squads in other buildings were doing the same thing as us: retreating. Men and women streamed out of their buildings like hornets smoked from their hive, although some of them weren't so lucky. The blue and green bolts along with the pink crystals impacted them as they collapsed onto the street, motionless.

We booked it under the third footbridge and towards the hastily erected barricades at the top of the street. The barricades were mostly the automatic roadblocks that popped up out of the street, however there were two sandbag encampments housing a heavy fifty each. Gunnery Sergeant Overholt beckoned our squad towards the defensive line. We scaled the barricades as Rhodes and O'Grady lifted Santos over to two awaiting troopers. We slid into cover alongside the remains of 2nd Platoon.

Rhodes turned to Gunny Overholt, "Whats the situation, Gunny?"

"Fucking birds are protecting the rest of their infantry with their shields, only way to kill 'em is with frags, and we're all near out. Those three rapid-attack vehicles are givin' us hell too!" the red-haired leader said as she shot at a bird alien with her assault rifle, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off it's shield.

"Where is the El-Tee?" Rhodes shouted. Overholt jerked a thumb to her left, and we all gazed down the line and saw Lieutenant Li was popping off shots with his M6J Carbine, bringing down a few of the frog aliens and clipping a bird on it's hand. Looking suddenly shocked, the bird reeled back from it's wounded hand, allowing the Lieutenant to finish it off with a bullet to the head.

"Thats it!" the Lieutenant exclaimed, "Shoot the birds through the gap in it's shield, then take 'em down when they're exposed!"

Troopers manning the line looked at each other, then did as they were instructed. Much to our surprise, the Lieutenant's idea had worked quite well. Instead of having a wall of shields approaching us, holes were being punched in their line as we dropped the birds one by one.

Another noise filled the background of sound, detonations going off in many of the streets to the sides of Juravinski Boulevard.

"What the fuck was that?" Santos exclaimed, leaning up against a barricade and shooting around the corner every now and then.

Rhodes kept on shooting at the advancing alien line, "Demo teams are sealing the roads so the aliens can't get any flanking routes on us."

I thought about that for a second as I reloaded my assault rifle, "Then why don't they do that for all the roads in this sector? Saves us from getting our asses handed to us by these things."

Gunny Overholt spoke up now, shaking her head, "They'll get through eventually, and we will have to face them eventually. Might as well get them into specific bottlenecks and give them as big of a bloody nose as we can before we fall back to Hotel Romeo."

Rhodes didn't have time to respond as the MG crews on the final footbridge saw the approaching alien tank and displaced themselves, hastily picking up their weapons and getting down to street level. The tank fired another ball of blue at the last bridge, collapsing it under the intense heat and hurling it's remains at us. We cowered behind the barricades, but cries were heard as people were hit with falling concrete and glass. The fast-attack purple vehicles moved up and unleashed their fury on our line, cutting down troopers who weren't hidden well enough. I grabbed onto my helmet and made myself as small as possible, trying to live through the onslaught of blue.

O'Grady looked up at Staff Sergeant Rhodes, "We're gonna die here if we don't do something!"

The Gunny overheard this and called down the line, "Get some EMP grenades on those vehicles!"

Four troopers with grenade launchers loaded EMP shells into their weapons, and arced them over the tops of the barricades. The alien vehicles scraped to the ground, blue static washing over the purple armor of the vehicle. I heard someone shout. "It worked!" just before the heavy fifties roared to life and killed the alien drivers, but that didn't stop the onslaught. Like a tidal wave, the horde of aliens kept marching towards our lines, launching their streams of deadly bolts at us once more. With nothing stopping them from above, they were free to rush our lines.

The very front of their line was all of the shield birds, providing an almost impenetrable wall that protected the two-dozen lizard-men behind them. The frog aliens scrambled towards the front, and few by the dozen as we cut them down. They weren't very tactical, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed our lines and forced us to divert our attention from the heavier-hitting aliens to them. The fast-attack vehicles did almost hit-and-run tactics on us, darting out of the advance and strafing our barricade with fire, then returning behind the infantry to get out of the way of the heavy fifties. This time the tank hung back, lobbing it's massive ball of judgement down onto our lines whenever it was needed. Men and women were falling all down the line of our makeshift barricades, scorched, burned, and impaled by the alien weapons.

"We're royally fucked man!" Valdez exclaimed nervously as he downed another giant lizard.

The advancing line of aliens was less than thirty meters away from us now. For the first time since Thern, I thought about not making it home. We knew about rebels, we knew how to fight them and how to win. They were unpredictable, yes, but we could still defeat them in combat. This was something entirely different. We were learning as we went, we had no idea how to properly fight this new enemy. We didn't know their motives, their structure, anything. This was the first time in UNSC history that a ground engagement was fought against something non-human. If Durban fell, then the rest of the planet would go with it. What would stop the Covenant from going to other worlds?

I lobbed a grenade into the enemy advancement. The big lizards were hard to kill, but under our combined fire we could get rid of that shimmering protective aura they had and actually do some damage. I slapped a new magazine into my assault rifle and popped up over the barricade, watching my grenade explode and bring down some of the frogs with it. I was about to pull the trigger when I saw a bright green flash out of the corner of my eye. I felt something hot graze my shoulder armor and I was spun like a top to the ground. I hit the pavement face-first, my MA5B falling to the ground beside me.

"Clarke!" Valdez shouted as he came down beside me, "Clarke! You alright?"

I rolled onto my back and Valdez helped me sit up, ducking as more blue and green flashed over his head. I looked at my shoulder and saw the armor melted away, barely missing the skin of my shoulder. It felt blistered, which I wasn't surprised at because it was _really fucking hot_.

"Clarke, you good?" Valdez shouted in my face. I nodded as he handed me my fallen assault rifle, hoisting me back to the barricade.

The aliens had come within 20 meters of us, and were now arming little blue objects and lobbing them at us. Grenades?

One of the blue objects landed on a trooper and _stuck_. He cried for a help as two marines around him tried to get it removed. Within two seconds the three of them were gone, enveloped in a blue flash and a following explosion. They were reduced to nothing more than charred bodies.

"This is fucked, we're done!" a young trooper yelled as he cowered behind the barrier, holding onto his helmet and rocking back and forth. Not only were these aliens effective combatants, they demoralized us with their brutality.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Lieutenant Li yelled as he stood and started to rush towards the street running lengthwise across the north end of the street. Nobody hesitated as we got up and ran. I'm a good runner, but everybody was sprinting at a breakneck speed just to get away from the line of death behind us. The MG crews packed up their weapons and followed, moving as quickly as they could to keep up with the retreat. We ran up the street and towards a pair of townhouses that overlooked the entire length of Juravinski Boulevard. People fell all around me as the aliens cut them down with their burning weapons. The tank fired it's deadly packages arcing up through the air and gliding down into our retreating mass, killing whoever was unlucky enough to get caught in it's resting place.

Those who did get caught by the blue ball of death weren't brought down screaming, they vanished. Gone. Poof. Just like that, they were gone, wiped from existence like a speck of dirt wiped from glass. Nothing to give back to their families as keepsakes.

"Get inside!" Rhodes screamed as he waved us inside the lefthand townhouse, along with the troopers of Bravo Squad and the remains of Echo, Foxtrot, and Juliet Squads. Lieutenant Li and the remainder of the survivors of 2nd Platoon made their way inside the righthand townhouse. We panted as we slumped down behind the windows of the living room, having a brief moment to catch our breath before facing the enemy outside. The troopers with heavy fifties and tripod-mounted HMGs made their way upstairs, along with a few sharpshooters. Valdez had miraculously gotten Santos all the way to the pair of townhouses without getting hit.

Aberdeem from Bravo Squad glanced around the dark living area of the townhouse, "Where the fuck did Boyle go?"

We looked around the room briefly, my eyes meeting those of Mackenzie's and he shrugged. We heard shouting from the boulevard outside, "Open the door! OPEN THE DOOR!" Boyle was sprinting his ass off towards the townhouses, his portable radio weighing him down considerably. Gunny Overholt cursed aloud.

"Shit, thats our last radio! Open the fucking doors!"

Aberdeem opened the front door as two pink objects smacked into the wooden door with a loud _thuck_, and two more embedding themselves in his body. He screamed in agony, clutching the pink spike protruding from his stomach, the other one above his pelvic area.

"Get it out! Get it out!" the Indian man screamed as Mackenzie and another medic pulled him across the floor and into the kitchen, blood trailing from his body.

Boyle was sprinting his ass off, approaching our townhouse as we beckoned him towards us, encouraging him to run faster. He was nearly halfway across the townhouse street before he caught a blue bolt in his leg. The radio operator cried out and hit the pavement. He pushed himself up and started crawling on his hands and knees towards the townhouse. I was taken aback as I tried to process what just happened. In a period of less than ten seconds, two friends of mine had been wounded. I watched as my friend Boyle crawled across the street, barely making any progress with the heavy radio on his back.

McDermott, Boyle's closest friend, hefted his SMG, "I'm coming Boyle!" he shouted as he sprinted out the door. Cries of protest were raised from the troopers on the first level of the townhouse as McDermott ran under heavy fire towards Boyle, kneeling down beside his friend and attempting to put him over his shoulders. Thats when shit hit the fan.

The white-armored lizard that had directed the tank to fire at our building approached the two men in the middle of the street, a two pronged blade appearing out of nowhere in it's hand. He kicked McDermott onto his back, shattering his ribcage. We raised our rifles, but was stopped by Overholt, "Don't shoot, you'll hit Boyle and McDermott!"

Pinning his right arm to the street with a large armored foot, the alien leader plunged the blade of light into McDermott's chest. McDermott screamed as the blade seared through his chest cavity, but was silenced with a quick upwards flick of the blade through his neck. Boyle got to his feet quickly but shakily and tried pulling out his magnum, but in one swift movement the lizard swept it's blade in an arc and lopped Boyle's head off. His headless body fell to the ground without a sound.

"NO!" the Gunnery Sergeant screamed as she unloaded her assault rifle into the alien on the street.

The horde was now on the street itself, barely kept back by the MG crews who had set up on the second floor of the townhouses. This was fucked. No, this _was_ in fact a clusterfuck. It was death just waiting to happen. We were dead the moment we got out of our warthogs, and we all knew it. I checked my mission clock, it read 1302. I smiled to myself, surprisingly. We had been pushed off of our street in just over forty-five minutes. We had virtually no way out of here without support, and if we didn't do something now there was a zero percent chance of getting home. What did I have to lose now?

I turned to Santos who was leaning up against the wall beside the window, "Wish me luck."

A puzzled expression crossed his face as I took a deep breath...

...and I ran.

The aliens weren't expecting another human to come running out of the building, especially not _at_ their white-armored leader. I ran across the street and heard more exasperated cries from the troopers in the two townhouses. The white armored sword-wielder turned to see me running full speed at him. He tried to level his sword but I was quicker. I dipped my shoulder down and plowed into his torso, knocking the alien to the ground and sending his sword skittering to the curb. These things were huge, well over seven feet tall. I unloaded an entire magazine of my assault rifle into it's chest and the shimmering aura disappeared with a _pop_. The alien advanced on me and tried to throw me to the ground.

I put my assault rifle between me and the muscular alien and he seized it. It was now a match of strength, one that I would lose. My eyes met his, initiating some sort of challenge. To be honest, I was fucking scared shitless. I was engaging in hand-to-hand combat with an _alien_ much larger than myself, and alot stronger. I will never forget my first battle with the Covenant, and my firsthand experience of directly fighting one.

The assault rifle bent under the lizard-man's strength, and he eventually forced me to the ground. He seized me by the neck and held me up a few feet above the ground. I scrambled around my neck with my hands, trying to ease the iron-tight grip. The alien snapped it's four-mandible mouth at me, saying something in it's native tongue. Nobody dared to shoot our way, fearing to hit the person on their side.

I felt myself blacking out. This was it, I was dead. I looked over at the townhouse, realizing that this would be the last thing I ever saw. This far-away world on the first day of battle against the Covenant. Thats when I saw Mackenzie leaning out the window screaming, "YOUR SIDEARM! USE YOUR FECKIN' SIDEARM!"

The ivory-clad lizard was momentarily distracted by Mackenzie's outburst, giving me time to reach down to my hip and take my magnum out. I pulled off three shots to his split-faced head, his aura fizzing and popping as it disappeared. The alien's head rocked back with each bullet, and finally he dropped me on my ass. I gasped for air, and realized I had no time to sit. The alien lunged towards me, kicking the magnum out of my hand. I rolled onto my stomach and tried to grab for the gun, but it was just out of reach. The white alien raised it's two-toed foot and brought it down onto me. I rolled again, and the pavement cracked it as it's foot landed. My hand brushed something metal, and I picked it up, hoping it was a weapon.

The large cylinder was the light blade of the alien.

I got up and ran, towards Boyle's body. The alien was faster though and grabbed the back of my shirt and threw me to the ground. He bore down ontop of me. I held the cylinder up, not knowing what to do. I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.

Nothing happened.

I opened one eye, and then the other. The alien's face was centimeters away from mine, air escaping his mouth in short bursts. Over his shoulder I could see the blades of the light sword penetrating out the back of it's body. I rolled the alien off of me and got to me feet, realizing that I was still in the middle of a crossfire between friendly and alien forces.

Without stopping I ran over to the corpse of Boyle and jerked the radio out of it's holder on his back. The aliens in the advancing line had no time to react to their leader's defeat, as I was already sprinting.

I sprinted under enemy fire back to the door of the townhouse, to the cheers of my comrades waiting inside. I passed the portable radio to Gunnery Sergeant Overholt and slumped down beside Santos, who was looking at me with awe along with the rest of the men and women on the first floor of the townhouse. It had been less than forty-five seconds.

"Clarke... how did you... how did you do that?" Santos uttered as he stared at me with wide eyes. I hadn't even realized what I had just done. I had killed the boulevard assault leader and taken back the radio in the amount of time it would take to reload a machine gun.

Without hesitation Rhodes spoke over the TACCOM, "Lieutenant Li, we have the radio. I repeat, we have the radio."

"I'm well aware of Private Clarke's show he put on outside of my townhouse, Sergeant. Cut the chatter and call in some support!"

Gunnery Sergeant Overholt picked up the microphone on the radio, "Baseplate this is Six Alpha Two-Bravo, we are pinned down in a pair of townhouses on the crossing of Juravinski and Shepherd, priority level Python, fire package Romeo, danger close."

The radio crackled to life again, "Six Alpha Two-Bravo, this is Overlord. Satellite images convinced us you were dead, glad to see your still kicking. Keep your asses together, support is on it's way."

Within moments the thunderous boom of artillery could be heard in the distance, cutting through the noise of the weaponsfire. The familiar noise of artillery shells screaming through the air filled our eardrums as they came streaking down onto the street outside. Massive plumes of smoke and debris filled the air as the high-explosive shells obliterated the alien lines. The buildings on the corners were reduced to piles of rubble as the artillery bombardment rained hell from above. The enemy tank was impacted directly and brewed up into an explosion of blue and white flames. By the time the bombardment was finished, our ears were ringing. The dust settled on the street, and nobody made a sound.

Gunnery Sergeant Overholt opened the front door, nothing. She stepped out, rifle at the ready, but nothing happened. She beckoned us all out, and troopers from both the townhouses emerged onto the street. The sounds of battle could still be heard in the distance, although it was quiet all along our street.

Lieutenant Li approached me, "Private Clarke, that was some damn good work you did out there. I'll be sure to tell Montgomery about this."

I barely even acknowledged his praise. To be honest, I couldn't even remember what I was thinking or how I did it. I was like a machine, or an aircraft on autopilot. I didn't think about it, I just _did _it.

"Thank you sir, but it had to be done. I was doing my job, and thats it." I responded in a humble tone. I didn't want praise, if I didn't do it, we would all be dead in those townhouses right now. This was the second time in a year that I had almost been killed in hand-to-hand combat. Lieutenant Li clapped me on the shoulder and walked down the boulevard, surveying the battle. I looked at the troopers around me, all weary from the intense battle. It had been relatively short, but it had been brutal. Of the eighty-one men and women of 2nd Platoon that arrived on Juravinski Boulevard, twenty-seven of them had been killed in the alien offensive. Everybody was wounded in some way, although some were worse than others. We had forty-nine fighting capable troopers, almost half of what we arrived with. The toll had been terrible, but we had staved off the aliens.

Troopers fanned out along the boulevard and collected the ammunition, weapons, and dogtags off of fallen comrades. My assault rifle was beyond repair, so I hoped somebody would pick up an extra one. I approached Rhodes, Valdez, and O'Grady who were surrounding a disabled enemy fast-attack vehicle.

"Whats going on here?" I asked as I entered the circle between Valdez and Mackenzie. O'Grady was crouched on the ground, inspecting the vehicle. A dead green-armored frog lay dead on the ground, blue blood oozing from it's body.

"Looks like plasma, to me," the tech specialist said as he turned his head at the blue and white flame sprouting from the hood of the vehicle.

"How can you tell?" Sergeant Rhodes asked as he knelt down beside O'Grady. The tech specialist went into detail about how the plasma must be concentrated by some means in order to produce flames as vibrant and colorful as this. He also mentioned the different colors of the enemies' bolts.

"Green is weaker," O'Grady explained, "Plasma gets darker as it grows in intensity."

Rhodes turned his attention to the dead alien, "Ugly bastards. I suppose these are their main infantry, like us."

Valdez snorted, "Not like us, Sarge. Don't even compare those things to us."

I was about to mention the different armor colors as Gunnery Sergeant Overholt called over to our group, "Staff Sergeant Rhodes!" She beckoned him towards the place where her, Lieutenant Li, and the other squad leaders were standing around the radio on the hood of a car. After a minute or two of talking, the Sergeant returned to our group.

"When are we leavin'?" Mackenzie inquired solemnly. He had just come out of the left townhouse, Aberdeem didn't make it.

Rhodes had a grim look on his face and answered Mackenzie's question with pursed lips, "We're not. Grab your gear, command tells us that we are rearming the line."

All of our mouths hung open. We had just gotten the shit kicked out of us, and now we were getting thrown into the same meat grinder again, this time understrength, under armed, and lacking supplies. I sat down on the pavement and removed my helmet, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands.

"Charlie Foxtrot?" I asked out loud to nobody in particular.

Rhodes nodded once and responded quietly, "Charlie Foxtrot."

_Author's Note:_

_Hooray for two chapters in two days! I worked my butt off all afternoon for you guys, so here you go, Clarke's first battle with the Covenant. Just so you know, I am obviously aware of the proper names for the various Covenant units, however the squad and their comrades are not at this point of the war, being the first ground engagement and all. "Frogs" are Grunts in this chapter, "Birds" are Jackals, "Lizards" are Elites, the tank is a Wraith, and the fast-attakc vehicles are Ghosts. This is obviously a temporary thing until they come up with the "proper" names for the various Covenant forces. Anyways, enjoy. I'll be updating alot more now that it is summer. Feel free to review, your feedback helps me greatly in my writing!_

_-Phantogram_


	10. Chapter 10: Eviction

Chapter 10: Eviction

**1900 hours, May 24 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Durban, Biko<br>**  
>Waiting.<p>

We sat around quietly on the second floor the bakery, waiting for the slightest sign of the Covenant appearing. I was sitting on the floor against the wall facing towards the townhouse street, cleaning my M6J Carbine that one of the new recruits had found for me after I lost my assault rifle on the first day of the battle. A cool evening breeze came through the destroyed front corner of the store, stirring Mackenzie who was sleeping on the double bed that dominated the small bedroom. Unlike our previous convenience store, the bakery we now occupied had only one bedroom up against the right hand side of the building, and the rest of the second level was living space. Our squad had occupied the bedroom first, so the rest of the troopers who wished to catch a few minutes of sleep had to sleep on the hardwood floor in the living area. Valdez was sitting in a chair a few feet away from me, rocking back and forth on it's hind legs, fingers rapping lightly on his M90 shotgun laying across his lap. O'Grady had gone with Rhodes to talk with Lieutenant Li and Gunnery Sergeant Overholt who were managing a makeshift headquarters in a laundromat across the street. Santos had been taken to Romeo Hotel to get his wounds treated, thus we were not graced by the Hispanic man's presence.

"Think we'll get relieved soon?" Valdez said quietly, staring out the destroyed corner into the street now shaded by the building tops blocking out the orange evening sun. The street was unrecognizable. Rubble and debris filled the road, while alien corpses lay cold and motionless in pools of their colorful blood. Remains of alien vehicles still burned with blue and white flames, the plasma inside of them showing no sign of stopping their expulsion of energy.

I ran the dirty rag along the length of the carbine's barrel, "I doubt it. Our forces are stretched too thin and they need every person they can get to fill the gaps in the lines that the demo teams can't close." We sometimes had Covenant forces approach from behind along the townhouse street, showing that defensive lines similar to ours were getting smashed through in adjacent streets. We repelled them, and demolition teams were quick to close off those streets with collapsed buildings. Command had taken the liberty to resupply us, sending a few transport Warthogs to give us more ammunition and rations. We recently got a few cases of SPNKr launchers, and we were grateful for the tools to effective destroy enemy vehicles and fliers.

It had been six days since we first arrived on Biko, and six days since the clusterfuck of a battle that wiped out half of 2nd Platoon. We had gotten the news on the first day that we were to continue defending Juravinski Boulevard, and we did. The Covenant were relentless, sending seemingly endless waves of their infantry to try and break through our defenses. Our line had held, but the price we had to pay was not a low one. Of the forty-nine troopers remaining after the first day, only twenty-five remained. Bodies were hastily dragged into the bakery at the north end of the street and covered with tarp. We had lost fifty-four men and women in less than a week, friends that we would never see again. For the first time in history, humanity faced a threat that could very well be the end of it.

I tossed the rag onto the floor and examined the polished carbine in my hands. It was an elegant weapon, somewhat outdated but effective nonetheless. I was getting used to the precision accuracy of the carbine, much better than that of the MA5B assault rifle that was so common amongst our ranks. The Marine Corps was getting supplied the brand-new BR55 rifles fresh out of the factory. Once we got off this rock, _if we get off this rock_ I corrected myself, I'll have to get my hands on one of those.

The past few days had given us fierce opposition with the Covenant's advance. They usually came with a few dozen infantry when the sun was just peaking over the horizon, which almost always was met with no casualties on our end. Their survivors regrouped and fell back to the south end of the street, through the small passageway between the rubble Santos and the other explosive specialists had created a few days before. An hour or so later they would return with a few of their tanks leading an attack, with more infantry behind. They would alternate between these two approaches throughout the day, sometimes supported by their purple-armored flying units until it stopped around evening. Sometimes at night they would get their bird snipers up on the higher rooftops on the street running across the south end, which had claimed a few of ours boys who were out on the street at night. Today however, we saw no action. A sniper showed up around midday but our own snipers had taken it out without a problem. It was a somewhat welcome break, however it made us nervous. Brutal attacks for the whole week, then one day it just stops? One of the other troopers with Jewish faith had joked that they were "honoring the Sabbath Day."

I pulled out my magnum and began to work on it as Rhodes and O'Grady opened the bedroom door and entered.

Valdez looked over at the two troopers, "Any word from command?"

"Same shit, different day," Rhodes said wearily. The Sergeant plopped himself down on the double bed and placed his assault rifle beside him. Mackenzie groaned as the movement roused him from his sleep. He took the pillow and put it over his head, burying his face into the mattress.

I took my magnum apart and began cleaning it's interior, "No relief, no reinforcements, nothing?"

Rhodes shook his head, "The line of streets down here is what is holding the Covenant off from reaching Romeo Hotel and pushing further towards command in the western part of the city. Apparently the 99th Military Police are having trouble keeping the aliens away from the parliament building and the 3rd Infantry Division's HQ, and the 2nd and 5th are getting crushed by the Covenant offensive to the North and East. The aliens are sending their dropships and landing them in supply and evac squares throughout the city, civilian deaths are getting pretty common."

A pair of enemy fliers wailed overhead as they moved in the direction of the city center. Mackenzie snapped awake as we all gripped our weapons and froze, waiting for the sound to die off in the distance. Once we were sure that we were not in for an attack, we eased up and relaxed once more.

Mackenzie rubbed his eyes and swung himself out of the bed, "Feckin' aliens won't let a man sleep..."

O'Grady was leaning against the wall beside the door, rifle slung over his shoulder by it's strap, "Apparently things aren't looking good for the rest of the planet either, the city of Bloemfontein has been totally overrun, along with Germiston and Withbank occupied by the 154th, the rest of the 3rd, and the 19th Armored. They got their asses handed to them and they're moving back this way."

I pursed my lips thoughtfully and reassembled my magnum, "Why can't we get reinforced by them when they get to Durban?"

Rhodes took off his helmet and ran his hand through his short brown hair, "Thats the thing, they won't get back to Durban. The Covenant has us surrounded."

Nobody said a word. We were stranded. Durban was the final stronghold on Biko, one that would surely fall. Our comrades were falling back across the grasslands to find refuge in the capital, and they will soon be met with the rear end of a Covenant assault force. It made sense as to why we had to hold this line. If the south end fell, the forces being pushed towards the center of the city would be caught off guard and speared through their asses. If we were going to retreat, we had to make it a defensive and organized one.

Mackenzie put his compact medical bag on his back and picked up his assault rifle from it's resting spot against the wall, "Are we retreating then?"

Rhodes put his helmet back on and stood, hefting his assault rifle, "We will fall back to Romeo Hotel, and then back to the southern evac square if we can't hold Romeo Hotel. Apparently ONI has got Spartans taking down that Covenant cruiser, so it will be a helluva lot easier to defend this planet. Think of it like an eviction."

My eyebrows shot up at the mention of Spartans. Alot of people knew about the Office of Naval Intelligence's super soldiers, the brainchildren of Doctor Catherine Halsey, a famous scientist renowned for her creation of the SPARTAN-II Project. The fact that we had Spartans fighting on Biko made me feel that we just _might_ have a chance of saving this planet.

Staff Sergeant Rhodes exited the room, followed by O'Grady. Mackenzie looked at me and Valdez with a puzzled look on his face, "So does that mean we _are_ retreating?"

Valdez and I both rolled our eyes as we went into the living area. A few troopers were resting on the floor and few couches, sleeping, playing cards, or writing letters. The room was barely illuminated, only being lit by the small amount of ambient lighting coming from the waning rays of the evening sunset. The bright orange glow of cigarettes stuck out in the darkness, the smell of smoke hitting me in the face as we passed under the door frame. I was the only one in the squad who didn't smoke, aside from O'Grady of course. I never got into it, and didn't really see how it could "soothe" you as so many other people claim.

We clomped down the stairs behind Rhodes and O'Grady, stepping onto the ground floor of the bakery. We passed by the front desk surrounded by acrylic displays of the various baked goods that were once available for purchase. We had consumed alot of it, so there really wasn't anything to see. The reason why they were pushed up against the desk was to make room for the bodies. Rows upon rows of our dead were covered by tarp or blankets found in the stores lining Juravinski Boulevard. If we left the bodies out for too long then the bird aliens would come in the night and devour them, leaving nothing more than strips of uniform and pieces of armor in the morning. It wasn't exactly the nicest thing to see every day, your friends lying anonymous on the floor, killed defending a meager boulevard to buy time in an already doomed operation. _That could be me, _I thought to myself. It could just as well be my own body lying under those tarps, but I was one of the lucky ones. That bolt that blistered my shoulder on the first day of the battle could have taken me in the neck if the weapon's wielder aimed a millimeter to the right. I shook the thoughts from my head as we exited the damaged storefront and onto the street.

We made our way across the boulevard and into the laundromat, where Lieutenant Li and Gunnery Sergeant Overholt were leaning over maps and papers scattered on a makeshift desk of washing machines, Boyle's former radio resting on top of it.

The Chinese Lieutenant looked up from his maps, "Staff Sergeant Rhodes, what brings you back so soon?"

Rhodes approached the two superiors, "Charlie Squad is ready to move sir, thought you could use some help getting this show on the road."

The Lieutenant gave a short chuckle and looked back down at whatever was on the "desk". He waved the Sergeant over and spoke quietly between him and Gunny Overholt, leaving the four of us standing at the door.

"Always secrets between the higher ups," Valdez said as he leaned against the window frame. I could hear distant battles happening throughout the city, and felt a low vibration under my feet.

I shrugged, "I don't think it would be too pretty if we all knew about a nuclear bomb counting down in the basement or something." Mackenzie and Valdez snickered.

Another, more intense vibration filled my boots.

O'Grady glanced nervously at Mackenzie, "He's joking, right?"

Another vibration, joined by a low rumble. I looked down at my boots, glass from the shattered front window littering the floor around them.

The ground shook again. The glass tinkled against the floor, shaking quickly.

Mackenzie laughed, "Yes O'Grady, 'cause they're gonna detonate a nuke beneath an important defensive position on purpose."

The glass continued to shake as the rumble became more rhythmic and constant. It was like those old dinosaur movies where the unsuspecting victim feels the ground shake as the Tyrannosaurus gets ever so closer. Except this wasn't a movie, and we weren't worried about dinosaurs. Valdez was laughing beside me, but I stopped him. Was I the only one who could feel that?

"You alright Clarke?" Valdez asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

I put my finger to my lips, there it was again. The ground shook and the shards of glass clinked on the floor, "Do you feel that?"

The muscular African American waited with me as we stood still waiting for the ground to shake. It did.

"You felt that, right?" I said, and at the same time he looked at me, "Woah, yeah I felt that."

Valdez turned to O'Grady and Mackenzie who were still talking, "Yo guys, cut that shit for a second."

The two of them did as Valdez said, and the ground shook once more. The two of them stared wide-eyed at Valdez and I as we all felt it shake again, and again, and again. The shakes were within a second or two of each other, sometimes it was like two were combined into one long vibration. You could hear a rumble every time the ground shook. It was as if something mechanical was moving outside.

The four of us stepped over the window frame and into the street. The noise sounded _very_ close. The evening sun caught our eyes, so I couldn't see what was making the noise. I put my hand up to shield my eyes, and I froze.

Ten or so blocks to the south, a massive, purple-armored..._ thing_... was advancing towards the parallel defense lines of UNSC-controlled streets. It was huge. It walked on four bug-like legs and had what almost looked like a head that pivoted at the front. A massive, glowing turret was mounted on top, brimming with plasma.

I could hear the noise of Wolverines firing their anti-air rockets a few streets over, the salvo streaking through the air and impacting the front of the alien super unit. The vehicle took virtually no damage, and with a loud screaming noise it fired a concentrated beam of superheated plasma at the street where the attack came from. Yellow-orange explosions flew up into the evening sky as the remains of the Wolverines were visible over the rooftops of our street.

"Holy shit..." Valdez uttered, frozen in place.

He turned towards the laundromat and without taking his eyes off of the alien assault craft. He jogged towards the window of the makeshift HQ and leaned in, "Uh... Sarge? We've got a problem..."

Rhodes turned to Valdez and walked over, "What is it Valdez, does the sound of artillery scare you?" The Sergeant looked to the south and saw the purple alien walker coming our way. He swore and turned to Lieutenant Li and Gunny Overholt, "Sir, we've got a big bug outside and it doesn't look too friendly! We have to move, now!"

The Lieutenant and the Gunnery Sergeant came over to the window frame and had the same expression as everyone else, shock and awe. Troopers emerged from their buildings to see what all the noise was about and once again, the same expressions formed on their faces. It was like a super mobile assault platform, I could see alien infantry scuttling all over little walkways on the outside of the walker.

Lieutenant Li stepped out into the street and screamed, "2nd Platoon, we're getting the fuck out of here!"

We regained our senses, although we hesitantly looked away from the massive threat approaching us. Troopers started to run towards the underground parking lot where most of our Warthogs still were. We had used some of them as mobile defenses, although four of them had been destroyed. Not like it really mattered. Most of the 'Hogs would be left behind, there was barely enough for everybody.

Lieutenant Li waved them back towards him, "No, No! There isn't enough time! RUN!" Troopers looked at each other in confusion, but the assault platform was less than three blocks away now. If we mounted up now then we would be obliterated before we got out of the underground parking lot. They came to their senses and followed us as we sprinted our asses off towards the townhouse street.

We were retreating again, this time for good. We rounded the corner of the north end of the boulevard and saw dozens of troopers from parallel streets doing the same thing as us, running for their lives. The alien walker let out a rising scream again and fired it's under-mounted plasma cannon. The line of plasma seared into an apartment building to our right, tearing a massive hole straight through it.

Our platoon joined into the mass of troopers now turning and running up the main street that lead to Romeo Hotel. It was a good ten minute drive, who knows how long we would last on foot. I risked a look over my shoulder and through the mass of troopers. I saw the assault platform crash through Juravinski Boulevard and across the townhouse street. It's front right leg ran through the damaged apartment building behind us like it was tissue paper, and the entire structure came collapsing down on itself. I looked to my right and saw Mackenzie running up alongside me and Valdez, giving me a quick look of fear as we continued to run. My legs were burning, and my chest felt heavy from the intense exertion. We were trained to run, but not like this. This was more of a test of willpower than speed. If you slowed down you were dead.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN!" Valdez screamed as we increased our speed, bolting towards the front of the group of troopers. Blue plasma bolts lashed out from the assault platform as it lumbered up the main street. Troopers fell screaming as the bolts cut them down, leaving the wounded to their fate at the hands of the enemy. We approached a metro station, a large rectangular indent in the outside face of a building would have provided relatively good cover if we could stop. Then again, that assault platform would overrun us in seconds now matter where we were defending from.

Some people tried to stop and help the wounded, but Lieutenant Li said otherwise, "Keep going! Don't stop for the wounded!"

Troopers who stopped to help their comrades looked hesitant and afraid as the assault platform got ever so closer and our group of retreating soldiers got so much farther. Some left their wounded friends and caught up with us, while others stayed behind and ultimately ended up on the ground with the first victims. I turned to say something to Mackenzie, but he wasn't there. I looked around at the group of sweating, panting soldiers as we continued to run. Mackenzie wasn't with us.

My stomach twisted into a knot as I looked over my shoulder again. Bodies littered the street, they were all human. Some were still moving, but the one that caught my eye was the one with the firey red beard, crawling on his stomach away from the alien super unit.

"Shit, Mackenzie!" I screamed as I started to slow down.

Valdez looked behind us and saw our squadmate lying on the ground, "Oh fuck!"

I had a choice to make. I could keep running with the group and have a chance of making it back home to Jen and Maddy. It was unlikely, but it was still remotely possible. Or, I could disobey direct orders from the Lieutenant and leave my best friend to die at the hands of these inhuman sonsofbitches.

I had to make a choice, and I had to chose now.

I closed my eyes, jerked to a stop and pivoted on one foot. I sprinted back through the retreating group, dodging people as they passed with bewildered looks on their faces as they saw this suicidal trooper running _into _enemy fire.

Valdez turned around and ran backwards, "CLARKE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? DO YOU WANT TO DIE?"

I didn't answer, I just kept sprinting. I zigzagged in random directions as plasmafire and pink spikes shattered all around me. I reached the front of the assault platform, jumping over dead troopers until I reached Mackenzie.

"Mack! Are you alright man?" I shouted in his face, the assault platform literally right above us.

"Me feckin' leg!" I screamed. A large, crystalline spike was lodged in the fleshy part of his calf. I lifted him up and put his entire body over my shoulder fireman-style and ran once more. We were relatively safe under the machine, but for how long I did not know. I looked around and ran towards the best cover I could think of, the metro station. Alien weaponsfire lashed out at my heels once we got out from underneath the machine, but luck was with us that day and we made it to the flight of concrete stairs leading towards the gated-off underground.

"Clarke, what the fuck are ya doin'?" Mackenzie asked as I put him down at the bottom of the steps, moving on my stomach up the stairs so I could look over the top of the stairs.

"Saving your sorry ass, you're welcome." I said as I peered over the top step of the concrete stairs. The purple alien super unit stopped moving and charged up it's front turret. With a scream it unleashed a stream of the white-hot plasma into the retreating troopers, tearing right up the middle of the line and burning through the asphalt of the street.

Nobody screamed. Of the hundred or so army troopers that were retreating, that one blast eliminated more than three quarters of the group. There wasn't any bodies, everybody was just vaporized under the intense heat. Mackenzie had sidled up alongside me, staring at the scene unfolding on the street.

"No... oh God no..." I whispered as the remaining troopers continued to run until they were out of view.

Valdez, Rhodes, and O'Grady could have easily been in that group that got hit, I prayed to whatever God was out there that they weren't. The gargantuan machine continued after the group until it too was out of view. We waited until the sound of it moving had disappeared into the distance.

I put my head down between my arms, "That was too fucking close." I hadn't realized it, but I had been holding my breath. This was getting to be too much for me to handle. I was expecting a reply from Mackenzie but he just grunted in pain as he sat up, clutching his outstretched leg.

I went closer to the Scotsman's leg and inspected the wound. The crystalline spike had gotten stuck pretty well in there.

"Do you think we can pull it out?" I said as I looked up at Mackenzie.

He grimaced in pain, "Yeah but... Ugh..." a jolt of pain shot through his body, "Ya have ta be careful... They'll explode if ya don't do it right."

We had seen what happened when somebody got filled with too many of those spikes. They supercombined and exploded in you, leaving a bad mess for whoever had to clean your remains off the street afterwards. I put my hand around the pink crystal and put my other hand on top of his knee. He groaned in pain as I moved his leg.

"Okay, just like a band-aid. On the count of three. One... Two... Three." I jerked as hard as I could and ripped the crystalline spike out of his calf. Mackenzie screamed loudly as it came out of his thigh, blood pouring out of the wound. I lobbed the spike as far as I could and it shattered harmlessly on the pavement of the metro station.

"See? Easy." I said as Mackenzie treated the wound, I helped him wrap the bandage around his calf and tie it.

I helped him to his feet, "Didn't think I would be treatin' myself," he looked at me and he put a hand on my shoulder, "Thanks for comin' back Clarke. Although I have ta say I wouldn't have done so meself."

I snorted, "Ah, don't lie you asshole. You would've come back for me." He smiled gingerly and shrugged, he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the wailing noise of Covenant fliers.

"Shit, get down." I said as we got lay down on the steps again. Mackenzie was a bit less mobile, and would have to limp along if he wanted to move. He slowly got into a prone position.

Two Covenant fliers swooped down over the street, followed by a group of twenty Covenant infantry that emerged from around the corner.

"It's a patrol, they're probably looking for survivors." I said as the group of enemies passed on the street in front of us. The lizards executed any wounded troopers swiftly, at least saving them the torture of being eaten or slaughtered by the birds or frogs.

"Alien bastards..." Mackenzie muttered as they continued to execute the troopers.

"Come on, lets go before they find us." I said as we moved back down the steps, being careful not to attract any unwanted attention. I pushed the chain link gate open, careful to put pressure towards the hinges so they wouldn't creak. It opened without a sound, and I waved Mackenzie into the dark subway tunnel.

"So much for waiting for the Covenant. Bloody aliens get us movin' with a feckin' bug walker." Mackenzie said as he hobbled down onto the tracks.

I snorted, "More like an eviction." I hopped down onto the tracks and looked down both directions. Faint yellow lights illuminated the rails of the tracks, so there was obviously still power. It was warmer in this tunnel, so I had to loosen the straps on my helmet to be a little more comfortable.

"Watch that third rail, touch that and you'll have more to worry about than a wounded leg." I said to Mackenzie, gesturing towards the track. If you touched that you would be filled with thousands of volts of electricity. Not exactly the way I'd like to die.

The Scotsman nodded and looked around in the dim of the tunnel, "Which way are we headin'?"

I pointed with my carbine to the left, "They went that way, might as well do the same."

We walked down the dark tunnel in the general direction of Romeo Hotel, praying we wouldn't run into any unseen enemies.

After a minute or so of silence Mackenzie spoke up, "Do you think we'll get off this rock?"

I hesitated, "Maybe. I don't know." To be honest, I_ didn't_ know. At the rate things were going I guessed we would be pushed back to the south evacuation square in the next few days. Even then, the chances of getting aboard a Pelican before catching a plasma bolt with your head was slim. That is if we got back to Romeo Hotel.

We moved at a relatively slow pace, as Mackenzie was having a difficult time moving, grunting as he limped down the track. After another ten minutes of walking we saw a bright white light up ahead to our left. I raised my arm signalling Mackenzie to stop.

"See that?" I whispered as I gestured towards the light with my weapon. I wiped sweat off of my forehead, it had gotten awfully hot. Evenings on Biko had the temperature usually dropping significantly, so I was curious as to why it was so warm.

Mackenzie was sweating buckets, "Aye, think this heat is from the aliens?"

"Well, there is quite a bit of light coming from up there. Want to go take a look see?" I said quietly.

A faint smile broke through the medic's dirt covered face, "Lead the way."

We advanced up through the darkness quietly, hugging the left wall of the tunnel. When we were less than ten meters from the light, I advanced by myself, leaving Mackenzie leaning against the wall of the tunnel.

I moved as quietly as I could, trying to distribute my weight evenly on the ground. I reached the light and peered around the wall. It was a subway platform, and on it were two of the little frog aliens sleeping soundly against a concrete support pillar. But that is not what caught my eye. Dozens of glowing blue plasma cores were stacked along the walls of the platform, giving the platform lights a bluish hue.

I pulled myself up onto the platform and placed my carbine in it's spot on my back, careful as to not wake the aliens. It was steaming hot on here.

I removed my combat knife out of it's scabbard on my thigh and crept up towards one of the frogs. In one quick movement I plunged the blade into the top of it's skull, killing it without more that a soft _squish_. I wrapped my arms around the pillar and cut the throat of the other frog, a soft squeal escape it's dying mouth. I froze as the noise echoed through the subway. Once I assumed that nobody hostile had heard, I slipped the knife back into it's spot on my thigh and examined the stack of plasma cores closest to me. The pulsed a sky blue in color, supported by a frame of elegant dark blue metal. It produced a significant amount of heat, like sitting too close to a fire. I backed away from it and pressed two fingers to my ear.

"Mackenzie, come take a look at this." I whispered over the TEAMCOM. The vitals of Rhodes, Valdez, O'Grady, and Santos on the team roster were nonexistent, due to the likely distance between us. Mackenzie's and mine were normal, although Mackenzie showed an elevated pulse. The Scotsman stepped over the third rail and pulled himself onto the platform with some difficulty.

"Shite..." he said in regards to the plasma batteries around the area, "Aliens are farther into the city than we thought."

"This is enough to power the city for years." I said as I examined the stack closest to me. If humanity could convert plasma into consumable energy, my statement would be true. Maybe in a few years it would be possible, but for now it wouldn't do humans any good.

"We can't just leave it here." Mackenzie said, pushing the dead frog alien's bodies onto the track.

I sighed in exhaustion, "What do you expect us to do, carry it out?" The two of us stood silently on the platform for a minute, trying to think of what to do with all these plasma cores. If we left them here, we would be giving the aliens a huge advantage of power. The problem was, how could we get rid of it? I was about to say something to Mackenzie when the sound of heavy footsteps clomped down the hallway on the far side of the platform.

Without a word Mackenzie and I looked at each other and hoped down onto the tracks, sitting silently in the darkness the platform provided. The corpses of the two frogs lay beside me, leeching their luminescent blue blood onto the dirt of the tracks. We heard the warbling language of the lizards as aliens moved around on the track.

My heart hammered in my chest, we were pretty much fucked. We couldn't leave the plasma cores, although we couldn't really get rid of them without getting ourselves killed. Mackenzie was still movement-challenged, and now we had aliens up on the platform. Mackenzie went to raise his assault rifle over the top of the platform, but I grabbed him and pulled him back down to the track. I gave him a death stare and made a cutting motion across my neck. If he hit one of those plasma cores, we would be killed by the resulting explosion in a matter of seconds.

As if things couldn't get worse, the distinctive clattering noise of the subway came echoing from down the tunnel. On most colonies subways were pretty obsolete, replaced by above-ground elevated trams. The colonies that did have them were usually Outer Colonies like this one, however the majority of them had the quiet electric subways. I guess the government on Biko just didn't care for replacing their subways with quieter, more efficient ones. Then again, we wouldn't have heard it coming if it was electric. Fate has it's ways of fucking with you.

Like deer in headlights I pulled Mackenzie onto the platform and faced the aliens. They were just as surprised as we were as we saw the sheer number of them. It must have been the patrol from the street, returning after finishing their execution jobs. The subway pulled up to the platform and opened it's doors with a _hiss_.

"Get on the subway!" I shouted. Mackenzie hobbled as fast as he could as plasma and pink spikes crashed against the side of the subway car. The interior was lit by aging yellow lights, illuminating the dark-blue seats and the torn advertisements and UNSC propaganda posters.

"I feckin' hate subways!" Mackenzie said as we hit the floor, crawling as fast as we could under the shattering windows towards the front of the train. Little frogs poured through the doors, making us roll onto our backs and kill them before they got to us first. I pushed myself to my feet as we reached the door to the next car, helping Mackenzie stand as well.

"Lets go! We have to move!" I said as the Scotsman got to his feet. The rest of the aliens kept back and took potshots at the subway as the doors closed, not wanting to hit the plasma cores. But that wasn't the end of it.

A big, blue armored lizard approached the subway as the doors closed, crashing it's armored foot through the doors. They bent inwards as the lizard flared it's mandibles at us and stepped into the center aisle of the train car. I opened the door to the next subway car as the lizard roared in anger and raised it's plasma weapon.

Mackenzie jumped into action and tackled the lizard to the ground, using his entire body to pin it to the ground. The subway started to roll away from the platform.

"Clarke, the plasma batteries!" Mackenzie shouted as I stood frozen at the end of the car.

Realizing that we still had the plasma cores to take care of, I did the only thing I could think of.

I took my last frag grenade off my belt and pulled the pin, throwing it out the shattered window and watching it clink across the ground. It rolled to a stop at the feet of a pair of birds, and they screeched in surprise just before it exploded.

The tunnel was lit with blue-white flames as the alien supply depot exploded. Mackenzie and the alien stopped their scuffle for a moment as they both turned to see the platform detonate. Roiling blue and white flames filled the tunnel, bucking the train forwards as it crashed into the rear of the subway, jetting it forward far beyond it's normal speed.

I was knocked onto my ass and thrown around the floor of the subway car as the flames jostled the train this way and that. The alien and Mackenzie were knocked from their battle, sending the lizard flailing towards the open door of the subway car. Lights flickered and metal screeched as the subway thundered down the tunnel, the temperature steadily rising as the inferno melted through the rear train cars. Mackenzie held onto the bottom post of a chair for dear life, while I braced myself on the floor of the center aisle.

The alien flailed on the floor as it tried to grab onto something. The subway rocked to the left and he fell out of the broken door. With a throaty scream he hit the tracks and slid under the speeding train, casting a splatter of purple blood all over the wall of the tunnel.

"CLARKE!" Mackenzie screamed as he too fell towards the door. I pushed off the metal posts anchoring the chairs to the floor with my feet and propelled myself towards Mackenzie. I grabbed him arm just before his feet went out the door and wrenched him back towards me like a fisherman bringing in his catch.

The flames melted away the rear end of our subway car, and I closed my eyes as the heat washed over my face.

I opened them again as cool air filled the subway. We had passed out of the tunnel and into a larger one that lead to the outside. The flames spat out of the tunnel like a dragon spitting fire, and quickly dissipated in the air.

The damaged subway rocked back and forth as it slowed down, no longer propelled by the energy of the flames. It groaned as it clawed along the tracks towards the starry night sky of at the end of the massive tunnel. We listened as it slowly chugged along the track, trying to reach the end of the tunnel. After a few moments we heard nothing.

It had stopped.

I rolled over onto my back beside Mackenzie, both of us panting as we recovered from the events that had just unfolded.

We lay in silence for several minutes, listening to the distant sound of battles in the night.

"Hey Clarke?" Mackenzie said after a while.

"Yeah?" I responded, staring at the ceiling of the subway car. We had just become the luckiest troopers on the planet. We had slowed the Covenant's advance in Durban, bought the evacuation valuable time, killed a patrol of aliens that mercilessly executed our wounded friends, escaped a murderous lizard-man, and come close to dying as our subway car was melted away with us inside of it. Wait until I tell that at a dinner party.

Mackenzie glanced at me as he sat up and removed his helmet, "Did I ever tell ya I feckin' hate subways?"

_Author's Note:_

_Chapter 10 brings in the 1 month anniversary of Why We Fight. Thanks to the hundreds of visitors who have read and who have reviewed, it definitely keeps me motivated to put out new chapters and to improve my chapters. This story has a good long run ahead of it, so keep reading and keep reviewing!_

_-Phantogram  
><em> 


	11. Chapter 11: An Answer For Everything

Chapter 11: An Answer For Everything

**0130 hours, May 25 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Durban, Biko<br>**  
>"Do ya know where yer gaun, Clarke?"<p>

I ignored Mackenzie. To be honest, I didn't know where I was going.

After we had escaped the hell ride on the subway, Mackenzie and I had traveled for hours trying to find our way back to Romeo Hotel and the rest of 6th Battalion. The plaza containing the hotels were one of the last lines of defense before Durban's southern evacuation squares. If the Covenant broke through there, nothing would stop them from overrunning the rest of the southern portion of the capital. I feared that it had already met that fate.

The distant sounds of battle echoed in my ears as we made our way down a dark alleyway. We had spent a good portion of the night dodging enemy patrols and keeping to the shadows, slinking around like rats. We had a close call when we had encountered a patrol where Mackenzie stepped on a soda can, alerting the group of frog-aliens. We put them down and booked it out of there before any of the bigger aliens came to see what was up. I had an idea of what general direction we were supposed to be going, but when I say "general direction" I mean that I have a vague idea that we are supposed to be heading North.

Even heading North was a vague idea.

We moved silently down the alleyway and into the next street. It would have been inky black if not for the fires leaping from the burnt-out husks of vehicles along the road, further fueling my idea that the southern part of the city had fallen. A lump in my throat formed as it did so many times since we arrived on Biko as I saw what littered the street. Not for the first time this night, I could see dark objects strewn around the road. The motionless lumps of black were unmistakably human-shaped, and upon closer examination you could see that most of them were not in a military uniform. The aliens were slaughtering every human they could find.

The wailing of alien fliers and the low drone of their dropships as they passed overhead became more frequent as time went on, causing Mackenzie and I to freeze in place as we waited for them to pass. We edged carefully along a storefront as we worked our way up the street, the weight of my M6J carbine shifting in my hands as I clenched it nervously.

After waiting for another few moments as an alien dropship passed overhead, we reached the end of the street. The street ended in a T-shape, similar to that of Juravinski Boulevard where we holed up during the initial retreat. A large, darkened office building lay on the other side of the street, lightly illuminated by the flames dancing on its walls and a faint red light emitting from the foyer. Mackenzie and I had passed through many of these as we moved away from the subway tunnel, and we both knew that there was a way out the back of the building that could save alot of time if you could find it. I dropped to one knee as I looked upon the building in front of me.

"If we cut through here it'll save us from having to walk around this block." I whispered as I gestured towards the office building with my carbine. Mackenzie grunted as he came down to one knee as well, the wound he sustained when we were assaulted by the bug-walker becoming worse as it strained under his movement.

"Aye, jus' watch for 'dem birds."

I nodded as I got to my feet. Mackenzie used his MA5B to help him stand up, putting both hands on the barrel and pulling himself to his feet. He panted as he stood up straight.

"You alright?" I asked quietly before we stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the flames.

Mackenzie sighed heavily as he regained his breath, and nodded several times as we crept towards the shattered glass entrance to the office building.

As we approached the building, several alien bodies lay in pools of their own colorful blood at the broken double doors, their lifeless faces giving us no particular welcome. I eyed them and shot Mackenzie a quick glance as we entered into the red flare-lit foyer. The interior was nothing spectacular, only a oak reception desk to the right and a few sitting areas around the room. Sandbag encampments were set up around the elevator at the far end of the foyer, accompanied by several crates of ammunition and a tripod-mounted machine gun turret. Red flares scattered around the floor burned brightly, giving the room an eerie feel. The unmistakable scorches of the alien weapons covered the far wall, signs that showed the Troopers defending this building had not given it up without a fight.

I picked up one of the burning red flares, "Mack, check the computer at the reception desk. See if you can bring up a map of the city."

"As long as I get ta sit down..." Mackenzie grumbled as he limped behind the desk and sank himself into the secretary's chair. The Scottish medic sighed as he seated himself, "I daun' tink i'll be gettin' out of 'dis chair Clarke."

I walked over towards the far end of the room, "Then hope our extraterrestrial guests will play nice when they find you sitting on your ass."

My foot slipped forward beneath me as I walked into the sandbag encampment, illuminated only by the red light emitted by the flare I was holding infront of me. I lifted my foot and looked at the ground. Pools of red blood coated the floor around the elevator, sometimes amassing into one big puddle. Five bodies of army troopers surrounded me, covered in burns and impaled with the remains of the purple spikes. That heaviness you get in your chest when you are scared filled me. I had seen many people die, and I had been around the dead countless times. We had been fighting these aliens for a week, and the 3rd Infantry Division had suffered more losses on Biko than we had ever suffered in campaigns that lasted for months on other planets. Right now I don't think anybody really cared about Insurrectionists, the only thing that mattered was protecting the citizens of Biko until HIGHCOM came up with a solution.

"Clarke, I foun' something," Mackenzie said as he tapped away on the computer, "if we head towards the top floor, we should be able ta see Romeo Hotel to the North-East."

"Yeah, alright." I replied, my voice slightly cracking in fear.

I bent down onto one knee and took the dog tags off of the trooper nearest the machine gun, several weapon burns covering her torso. Cold blood seeped through the fabric on my knee as it touched the floor. I ignored it and did the same for the next three troopers strewn around the emplacement, pulling their personalized piece of metal off its chain. The lump in my throat grew larger as I saw the insignia of the 3rd Infantry, 6th Battalion on the shoulders of the army troopers. I approached the next dark figure sitting at the end of a long smear of blood on the wall, his hand wrapped around a pink crystal protruding from his chest. The flare illuminated his face, and I instantly recognized who it was.

"Mack, come take a look at this." I said as I examined the face of the dead trooper.

Mackenzie limped out from behind the desk and took in the scene around us, "Poor bastards..." He checked their pulses and gave no impression of hope.

"Hey, these are our guys." Mackenzie noted as he too saw the insignia on their shoulders. I simply grunted in reply.

He looked over my shoulder and gave a low whistle at the man infront of us.

"It's Norton." I said as I stood up and let Mackenzie check his vitals. Private Anthony Norton came into 2nd Platoon just before we arrived on Biko. The kid had never seen combat, and was greener than O'Grady. Now thats saying something.

Mackenzie shook his head as he took his hand away from Norton's wrist. I wasn't really expecting him to be alive, so it didn't really hit me that hard. I never knew Norton that well, but it still hurt to see one of your comrades dead. I collected his dog tags and stuffed them into my breast pocket along with the others. We spent the next few minutes rummaging through the ammo crates and scrounging whatever we could find. I collected three extra magazines and four frag grenades for myself, along with a bit of extra water and some dry rations. You always have to stay on top of hydration and hunger.

"Now do we go up?" I said as I put away the rest of my findings. I dropped the flare onto the ground and stamped it out.

The Scottish man yawned, "Aye, up we go."

It was common sense not to use the elevator. It most likely led to the main hallway, and who knew what could be up there. We made for the stairwell, weapons at the ready as we entered quietly and tactfully. We moved at a slower pace as it was difficult for Mackenzie to move at a quick speed. Making our way up the flights of stairs to the top of the building, my eyes darted from one corner of darkness to the next. Some of the Marine Corps divisions were getting equipped with night-vision equipment built into their helmets similar to those of the ODSTs or other branches with full-face helmets, while most other branches had to make use of primitive night-vision goggles. Unfortunately, neither of them were on hand.

We came to the top floor and I opened the door without haste, Mackenzie quickly following behind. The roof of the top floor was exposed to the cool night air, the entire North side of the building ripped away. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I heard faint voices, _human _voices.

My moment of thought was cut short, I was no more than six steps into the room before I felt something metal jam into my back.

Unmistakably a weapon.

"Drop your weapons." I heard somebody speak, Mackenzie was apprehended too. I did as I was instructed and dropped my M6J and raised my hands above my head as I heard Mackenzie's weapon clatter to the ground as well. Didn't these people understand that we were military?

"Identify yourselves." my captor said from behind. The voice sounded strangely familiar...

"Private First Class James Clarke, Third Infantry Divi-"

I didn't get to finish my identification as I was put into a headlock. The roaring laughter of my captor was unmistakably that of Christopher Valdez.

"Shit Clarke, I didn't think you made it!" Valdez said as he pulled me to my feet and spun me around, greeting me with a big smile.

I snorted, "I didn't think I made it either."

Valdez turned around and looked at Mackenzie, "Looks like Doctor Jackass made it too."

"Nice ta see ya too, Valdez." Mackenzie said as he gave Valdez a mock salute. The trooper behind Mackenzie still aimed his MA5B at Mackenzie's back, fidgeting nervously. Mackenzie gave the kid an angry stare.

"Get that feckin' gun outta my face!" the Scotsman yelled as he shoved the weapon downwards, startling the young man. Mackenzie shook his head and approached Valdez and I.

Once again, Mackenzie and I were the luckiest troopers on Biko. What were the chances that we would stumble upon friendly forces in this godforsaken city?

"Sitrep?" I asked as Valdez led us towards a metal door at the far side of the unfurnished room at the top of the stairwell. My question was quickly answered as we walked into a long hallway illuminated by more of the red flares. Ammunition crates lined the walls, most of them were empty. Troopers, Navy personnel, and civilians moved about quietly, some of them sitting or sleeping. The entire left wall of the hallway was reduced to short stubs of wood, rebar, and drywall, the north rooms completely exposed to the elements from above and from the north side of the building.

"After that bug-walker came our way and you decided to play hero, shit got worse if you can believe it. They ripped through the center of our group with their big laser and killed almost everybody," Valdez said as we passed by a pair of wounded troopers leaning against the wall, "I know what you're going to ask, no, I don't know what happened to Rhodes and O'Grady. Our group broke off into a few clusters and we got scattered."

I nodded as I took in this information. We had witnessed the laser being fired, and I knew that alot of people had been killed. At least there was a chance Rhodes and O'Grady were still alive, but right now we had to figure out how to get back to friendly lines.

"How many personnel are here?" I asked as we continued down the hallway, ducking under a fallen wooden beam.

Valdez shrugged, "Around thirty-five combat capable, I would guess. Ninety or so altogether. We picked up a few retreating squads from other parts of the defensive line as well as some navy boys, throughout the evening more and more people kept coming to us, including civilians."

My eyebrows shot up towards my hairline at that number. Ninety was _alot_ of people, and more than half were wounded or civilians. We were between a rock and a hard place.

"Have you tried leaving?" Mackenzie asked as we entered into what looked like a large hospital room. Desks and tables from other rooms had been converted into gurneys as wounded army troopers, navy personnel, and civilians lay groaning and screaming as overworked medical personnel tended to them. Blood stained the cheap office carpet from dark blue to red, and desk lamps provided the surgeons, medics, and medical technicians light as they worked non-stop.

Valdez shook his head discouragingly, "Every time we even try to send scouts out they get killed by the bird snipers. Not even worth trying to evacuate the wounded, let alone the civilians." Valdez glanced at Mackenzie, trying his best to keep up, "You hurt, Mack?"

Mackenzie shook his head, "Just a wee flesh wound."

The "wee flesh wound" was seeping pus through the hasty tourniquet we had tied to his leg where the crystalline spike had caught him in the calf. The dressing was soaked with aged brown blood, with hints of yellowish color as the pus dripped out.

"Better get that checked out." I gestured towards Mackenzie's leg, rubbing my own wound on my upper arm where I had been grazed by a stray bolt on the first day of the battle. It had blistered the skin, but other than that I was relatively unscathed. I was extremely lucky.

The Scottish medic shrugged and sat on the blood-stained desk that Valdez had indicated.

"Doc!" Valdez called through the massive amount of noise that filled the top floor of the office building. It sounded like I was in a bustling spaceport.

A smaller doctor dressed only in his fatigue pants and a blood-stained white t-shirt grudgingly approached our group. I instantly recognized the thin features of Doctor Marcel de Chagny through the dirt, sweat, and blood that covered his face. The French doctor had saved my life when I was gutted in the final raid on the Innie Stronghold on Thern, and had patched me up on numerous occasions throughout my military career. I owed this man my life.

I lifted my hand in greeting but the doctor pushed through Valdez and I and went right towards Mackenzie who was sitting up on the makeshift gurney.

"Whats wrong with you, trooper?" Doc Chagny asked through his French accent. He reminded me alot of my friend Hermann Fitzgard back on Charybdis IX.

"Feckin' spike caught me in the leg, Clarke here pulled it out almost immediately." Mackenzie said, gesturing towards me with his head.

Doctor Chagny turned to me and cracked a faint smile as he noticed who I was, "_Bonjour_, Clarke. Glad to see that you haven't undone my handiwork."

I spread my hands in a dismissive gesture, "I try my best, Doc."

The French doctor unwrapped the bandage on Mackenzie's leg, cutting it occasionally where it stuck to the skin. Mackenzie grimaced as the action tugged at his wound.

Doc Chagny let out a _tsk tsk_ and shook his head, "It's not bad."

'Not bad' was an understatement. The wound was a gaping hole of pus and blood, and gave off a stench that made me gag. Compared to alot of the other injuries in the room, like disembowelment or loss of a limb, I guess Mackenzie's wound wasn't so bad. I wouldn't want to be in his situation though.

"You're fine." the doctor said as he wrapped the revolting bandage around Mackenzie's leg again. Valdez and I had a look of bewilderment on our faces as Mackenzie nodded and sat up. Doc Chagny looked at us and rolled his eyes, "You cannot expect me to treat every little scrape, _mes amis._ In case you haven't noticed, we don't exactly have medical supplies falling from the sky."

He was right. If every person that came through with a little nick or scrape was treated, the small amount of medical supplies wouldn't have lasted a minute. The seriously injured people had to be treated first.

The Doctor was about to walk away when he noticed Mackenzie's helmet with the symbol indicating he was a medic, "You know how to treat injuries?" the doctor inquired.

"Aye. Not a very experienced one, but I am."

The doctor shook his head, "It doesn't matter, come with me. We need more medical staff."

Mackenzie was taken away by the doctor and put to work almost immediately, leaving Valdez and I standing in the corner by ourselves. Mackenzie looked over at us and shrugged before Doc Chagny directed him on how to treat a severed arm.

Valdez leaned against the bloody office desk and sighed heavily, "Why do we have to go through this shit Clarke? Innies were bad enough, now we've got friggin' aliens fucking us into next week."

I removed my helmet and ran my hand over my shaved head, "It's part of the job. Of course I'd rather not be doing this, but we signed up for it and we've got to get it done. What if this happened on Mars or Charybdis? Would you want the only people that can help to just get up and leave?"

Valdez rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. The usually outgoing African-American that I was so familiar with was now in front of me, beaten into exhaustion. I can't deny that I have been scared almost every moment since I saw that alien starship destroy the _Sweet Honolulu_. It was all too real. Those Sci-Fi movies you see about aliens, its entertaining. It makes you think, 'Is there other intelligent beings out there?'. But when they land on your doorstep and attack you, it is the scariest thing imaginable. How are we supposed to figure out what they are going to do? Their tactics are unpredictable, their weapons and vehicles are unknown. Their anatomies are completely different, a shot where a human heart would be might only affect them as much as a shoulder injury would be to us. A week of fighting aliens has felt like six months of fighting rebels. Sure, rebels were vicious and stealthy, but the UNSC always prevailed. For the first time in my life, I thought that we might just lose a battle.

Valdez gave a low chuckle, "You have an answer for everything, don't you Clarke."

I cracked a smile through my filth encrusted face and slung my M6J over my shoulder.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" a Corporal supporting a wounded trooper shouted to us as he entered the makeshift hospital room quickly. A civilian woman, someone who worked in the medical field I suspected, broke off from a desk where she was tending a disemboweled man and followed the pair approaching our desk.

Valdez and I parted as the Corporal put the wounded man down on the desk we were at and began telling the woman what had happened as she worked quickly to help him. The dim florescent lights flickered as a series of explosions detonated somewhere nearby, but the medical staff did nothing but blink the falling dust out of their eyes and continue working. The pair of us exited the hospital room and into the long hallway, where more people were entering the building from the stairwell we had entered from.

"Come on Clarke, you need to get some sleep." Valdez said as he clapped me on the shoulder. I grunted in reply, realizing how tired I really was. Exhaustion clawed at my eyes, seemingly pulling them shut as I followed Valdez down the hallway. I had been pumped up on adrenaline and fear the entire night, and I had barely gotten any sleep in the past week. A bit of shuteye was exactly what I needed.

We ducked into another office where troopers had pushed the cubicles to the sides of the room or manipulated them into tables and beds, talking quietly amongst themselves, smoking, or cleaning their weapons. We made our way to an empty spot against the wall, and I leaned against it and slumped to the floor. Sighing heavily as I placed my M6J beside me on the floor, I took out the picture of myself, Jen, and Maddy. I smiled as I stroked its crumpled surface before I placed it back into my breast pocket.

Valdez looked down at me and hefted his shotgun over his shoulder, "I have sentry duty, I'll come wake you in a bit."

I nodded as I placed my helmet on the floor as well and closed my eyes, "Try not to have too much fun without me." The close-quarters specialist said something I didn't hear, as I was already consumed by the pleasurable haze of warm sleep.

"On your feet!" I was jostled out of the comforting warmth of dreamless sleep by the shouts of a loud Master Warrant Officer. I blinked the blurriness of sleep out of my eyes and put on my helmet. The mission clock read **0433**. _Was I really asleep for two and a half hours?_ I thought to myself, it had felt like I had shut my eyes for a millisecond. Valdez came into the suddenly bustling office and hefted me to my feet.

"Clarke, lets go! Shit is about to happen," the African American handed me my M6J Carbine, "and the Commander wants every fighting capable solider in the conference room five minutes ago."

I was still dazed from the sudden awakening, but I followed Valdez and the crowd of troopers out the door. We moved quickly with the group of soldiers down the hallway behind the Master Warrant Officer.

"Commander? What Commander?" I asked Valdez as we entered a smaller conference room. The massive oval table had been removed and used as firewood, I assumed. A tall ammunition crate was standing on its side at the far end of the room, with a dark-haired man leaning on it. The man's dirty uniform bore the unmistakable insignia of the Office of Naval Intelligence. A Sergeant First Class and a female Senior Airman, probably a pelican pilot, stood near the ONI officer staring out at the crowd of troopers who had just entered the small conference room. Valdez and I stood in what was possibly the second row from the front.

The group of forty-one soldiers packed themselves into the room, shoulder to shoulder, chest to back. The Master Warrant Officer joined the Navy Commander at the front of the room, nodding to the Sergeant as he passed.

"Troopers," the ONI spook began, "We don't have time to waste, so I will be brief. I am Commander Masters, and I'm with the Office of Naval Intelligence. I know you've all been to hell and back during the past week and experienced things no human being should ever experience."

We were all silent.

Commander Masters continued, "But I can tell you that you have all fought with more valiance and courage than I could ever dream of having. I now ask that you call forth that courage once more, as we have found our ticket out of this building and back to the fight against these alien bastards."

Now _that_ made people talk. The conference room filled with murmurs in the early morning as soldiers spoke of the way out. The Commander raised his hand and quelled the noise.

"A Highschool football stadium had been converted into a landing zone during the initial days of the battle, however it fell into enemy hands shortly afterwards. Pelicans could still quite possibly be there. If we are correct, we have our way out of here," the Commander stopped for a moment, "If we are wrong, we are only delaying our inevitable demise."

Commander Masters let his words sink in before he finished, "I am asking for volunteers to recover an aircraft from the stadium." Nobody said a word. This wasn't like the movies where the hero jumps on every opportunity to march into battle. Nobody in their right mind would do this. But if we _didn't_ do this, we would all surely die in this office building. It was dangerous, Valdez even said that people couldn't even leave without getting killed. It was even a gamble saying that there was aircraft left in this stadium. I can understand why people wouldn't want to volunteer. But we had a choice, stay here and prolong the inevitable, or get up and take back what was ours.

I took a big breath and stepped out of the crowd, "Private First Class Clarke, ready for duty, sir." I stood at attention in front of the assembled army troopers.

The ONI spook looked at me as a faint smile touched the corners of his lips. My eyes bore into the wall ahead of me as I remained ramrod straight, hoping somebody would join me. For a moment I regretted coming forward to go on this suicide mission, but the next moment put me at ease.

"I'm going with him, sir." Valdez said as he too emerged from the silent crowd, his worn shotgun slung over his shoulder. I glanced sidelong at him and gave the close-quarters specialist a quick smile.

The sound of boots on the floor echoed in my ears once more, "I'll be joining the lads Commander, sir." the familiar voice of Mackenzie said as he came and stood at my other side, his wound wrapped in a fresh adhesive over top of his bloody uniform.

"Very well, you three will be joined by Master Warrant Officer Mathers and Sergeant First Class Hopefield," the Commander said as he gestured to the two non-coms at his side, "As well as Senior Airman Gallagher here," he finished by nodded at the female Pelican pilot at the front of the room. The three soldiers standing at the front of the room took positions alongside Mackenzie, Valdez, and myself.

"Head down to the basement, you will prepare there," the Commander said to the group of us, "Good luck, and godspeed." The Commander gave us a sharp salute, which we all returned.

We filed out of the crowded room with all eyes on us as the group parted and let us through. The six of us walked down the hallway to the elevator. What were we thinking? This was like willingly signing your own death wish. But as I have said before, we signed up for it, so we have to get it done.

"Glad to see you're feeling better, Mack." I said with a smirk as we waited for the elevator.

The Scottish man laughed, "I don't feel better, I feel worse actually. I jus' have ta keep your sorry ass alive, Clarke." My smirk widened into a grin as I called the elevator.

"You're that guy that breached the wall at the whaling station on Thern, Private?" Sergeant First Class Hopefield asked me, clenching his M7/Caseless SMG.

I shrugged, "Yeah."

The Sergeant nodded, "I saw you do it. Innies never saw it coming."

"Innies aren't our concern now, Sarge." Valdez said matter-of-factly.

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, Master Warrant Officer Mathers hit the basement button and we descended downwards. Senior Airman Gallagher, a pretty redhead, stared at the door as we descended downwards. She had probably never been in ground combat until the last few days, the magnum that rested in her holster looked new and unused. Her uniform was grimy and dirt-covered like the rest of ours. I decided to make conversation to try and ease her nerves. Maybe it was to ease mine, too.

"How long have you been flying for?" I asked.

She looked over at me and snorted, "Are you flirting with me, Private?"

I laughed, "I'm married."

Her lips pursed in embarrassment and recollection, "I've been flying for four years. I was on Thern during the final assault. My Hornet crashed, I was the only survivor."

I nodded, "You saved us all, without air support we all would've been killed." She blushed and turned away, but simply smiled in reply. We reached the bottom of the building and we exited into a dark basement. The basement reeked of mildew, and we navigated the maze of boxes until we reached an open door on the other side of the room with a row of strip lights illuminating the interior.

"Looks like somebody is expecting us." MWO Mathers commented. The muscular man was well into his thirties, maybe early forties. He sported a black goatee with hints of grey, showing his advancing age. He was attached to a different company so I didn't know him too well, although we had spoke briefly on several occasions during our time on Thern.

We entered onto an elevated platform a few feet above the ground, with stairs leading down either side. Below us was a garage sunken into the ground, most likely used by the executives of the building. The only car remaining, however, was a large, sleek HuCiv Liger. The streamlined black SUV was elegant yet functional, and tended to be very expensive. It was driven by car enthusiasts and wealthy families alike, being able to seat eight.

The other point of interest was a white table on the far side of the garage, illuminated by a florescent tube light. A Filipino Specialist sat at the table, loading bullets into an ammunition cartridge.

We walked down the stairs and over to the table, where the Specialist was pouring over the weapons which rested on it.

"Specialist, we were sent down here by Commander Masters." MWO Mathers said, holding his MA5B in one hand.

The Specialist looked up, "Ah, you're here. I was instructed to give you the co-ordinates to the highschool. I need your tacpad, sir."

Mathers nodded and passed the data pad to the Filipino man, who plugged in a device and waited for the screen to pulse a light blue. He handed the tacpad back to the Warrant Officer, who slipped it into his breast pocket. A blue Nav beacon appeared on our Heads-Up Display, and the blue diamond in my eye monocle attached to my helmet showed that we had almost two and a half kilometers until we reached the stadium.

The Asian Specialist stood up and gestured around the room, "Take whatever you need. These weapons are for you. There is ammunition in the crate beside the table."

The group of us all went for the box of ammunition like kids grabbing for candy. We all packed as much ammunition as we could onto every possible spot on our bodies. We moved on to the table and picked out a few weapons. The only thing I picked up a very nice combat knife, as I had lost mine a long time ago on Ariel and had never replaced it. The blade was nicely balanced and had a firm grip. I picked up its sheath and attached it to my chest, just above my heart. I stayed with my M6J Carbine, which I had grown fond of.

"Here, take this." Valdez said, passing a MA5B Assault Rifle to Gallagher. She looked a bit puzzled, which Mackenzie reacted to.

"Do ya know how ta fire a weapon lassie?" Mackenzie said as he passed her a few clips of 7.62mm ammunition.

She looked hesitantly at the Medic, "I fired one in basic..."

First Sergeant Hopefield placed another 40mm grenade on his belt, "Good enough."

We moved on to the shelves behind the Specialist, containing various gadgets and doodads. We loaded up on grenades, flashbangs, smoke grenades, signal flares, flashlights, and batteries. We put alot of the things we wouldn't need immediately into a large duffel bag. After that, we placed fresh magazines in our weapons and were ready to go.

The Filipino Specialist passed Mathers a key, "You're taking the SUV, sir."

The Master Warrant Officer took the keys and faced us, "Alright, lets get us a Pelican."

We walked over to the Liger SUV and put the duffel bag in the trunk. Master Warrant Officer Mathers sat in the drivers seat as we loaded into the vehicle. Mackenzie and Gallagher sat in the back seat, while Valdez and I took the middle seat. Hopefield hoped into the passenger seat, grenade launcher loaded and ready to fire. Mathers started the vehicle and revved the engine as the Specialist opened the garage door, casting the faint greyish-blue glow of early morning into the garage.

The Master Warrant Officer gunned the SUV out the door and into the street, powering around the first corner and down a long road surrounded by tall apartments and offices. It wasn't long before crystalline spikes and bolts of plasma smashed into the sides of our vehicle, the alien snipers already at work.

"This is fucking suicide, you know that, Clarke." Valdez muttered as he clenched his shotgun, leaning away from the window.

I was scared shitless, but I had to help keep the morale up, "Ah come on Valdez, nothing beats an early morning drive." Mackenzie snorted and Gallagher laughed nervously from the back seat.

The African American gave me a twisted look, "You weren't supposed to answer that." A plasma bolt seared through Valdez's window, melting a fist-sized hole in the glass. Up ahead a group of frog aliens were shambling around in the street, but quickly killed by the tonne of machine crashing through their ranks. Blue blood splattered over the front of the vehicle as the little aliens were hit by the SUV.

I held onto my seat as we sped over their lifeless corpses, "Like you said Valdez, I have an answer for everything."


	12. Chapter 12: The Price of Victory

Chapter 12: The Price of Victory

**0500 hours, May 25 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Durban, Biko<strong>

I spun around in the leather seat and looked past the terrified face of Senior Airman Gallagher, watching as we sped away from the crushed frog aliens, their squat corpses mangled and flattened into a pool of luminescent blue blood.

"Eat shit, alien bastards!" Valdez shouted back to the lifeless creatures. The early morning sun was casting wisps of orange over the darkened horizon, giving us a tad more light than the slight greyness we had been working with.

This was insane. What were we doing out here? Fighting alien invaders on an unfamiliar planet, crashing down a street at over one hundred and fifty miles per hour while getting shot at with needle guns and energy weapons, while trying to steal a potentially unavailable aircraft from an enemy-occupied area to evacuate more than one hundred wounded soldiers and civilians from a wrecked office building. Processing everything that was happening made my head spin.

The left rear window shattered and Mackenzie swore loudly, "How much feckin' farther?"

MWO Mathers ducked his head as his window exploded inwards, sending glass falling onto his lap, "Another kilometer." Mathers expertly twisted and maneuvered the SUV around the many abandoned vehicles and the piles of debris that filled the road. His skill at driving surpassed those of Santos, apparently Mathers used to be a professional racecar driver on Reach before he joined the military. The mission leader made a sharp right turn and continued to speed our vehicle through the ruined streets of Durban.

I cursed under my breath as the now familiar sound of the alien attack fliers cut through the noise of the engine and the weaponsfire.

"Shit, we've got enemy air units," I shouted as I looked up and saw the bottoms of a pair of purple-armored alien aircraft swoop down from the tops of the buildings. We had no time to react as the alien fliers opened fire.

I had a white-knuckle grip on the leather seat as the SUV rocked and bounced, hissed and popped as the plasma burned into the exterior. Everybody did their best to duck down into their seats to avoid flying glass and plasma, feeling a fleck of burning glass here and there. I held my breath as the acrid smell of dissolving metal filled my nostrils as the plasma ate away at our vehicle. Mathers looked like a madman trying to keep the SUV on the road and ducking from the enemy air units, peering over the steering wheel and pulling away as he jerked our vehicle from side to side, trying to throw off our pursuers and to avoid any obstacles in the street.

Gallagher brought her head between mine and Valdez's seats, "We're going to die here if we don't do something quick!"

"What do you expect us to do? Ask them nicely to stop?" I said through barred teeth as another burst of plasmafire rocked the SUV.

A trio of lizard aliens appeared out of an alleyway to our left and were startled by the pursuit in the street. The red-clad alien in the lead let out a short yelp of surprise that was audible over the intense screaming of the Liger's engines. The quater-tonne family vehicle clipped the muscular invader and sent him spinning one hundred and eighty degrees before hitting the pavement, shortly followed by a quick rise of the left side of the vehicle. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the alien with its arm completely flattened into a purple mush. Its comrades spewed streams of blue from their weapons, lashing over the back hatch of our vehicle. That wounded alien would not be fighting again. In spite of everything, the fliers were relentless, constantly peppering us with plasma as we powered down the street.

Valdez took quick, deep breaths through his mouth, then stood up in his seat, "Watch my back, Clarke."

Mackenzie pumped a few bursts of his MA5B out of his shattered window before he realized that Valdez was standing up in his seat, "Are ya tryin' to lose your head, Valdez?"

I tried to stop him as he put his upper body out of the broken sunroof, but he was up and doing what he does best. Valdez faced the rear of our vehicle and raised his M90 shotgun, blasting two rounds into the underside of the nearest alien aircraft, shearing away armor and causing it to trail thick black smoke. The damaged flier rose in altitude and stopped suddenly, getting distance between our speeding SUV and itself.

Valdez looked down at me, "Pass me the grenade launcher!"

I snatched the M319 Grenade Launcher from Hopefield, giving me nothing more than a look of confusion while he ducked into his seat. I passed the weapon to Valdez, who loaded a 40 millimeter grenade into it and took aim at the damaged alien aircraft. With a crunchy _pop_ the explosive sailed through the air and detonated in front of the left wing of the flier. Blue flames licked up the side of the cockpit as the purple flying unit twisted and lost altitude. With a satisfying crash the aircraft hit the pavement upside-down, rolling head-over-heels until the wreck came to a flaming halt.

"Thats how we do it on Mars!" Valdez cheered as he crouched back into the speeding vehicle. His victory was cut short while passing the grenade launcher back to Hopefield and seeing what lay on the road ahead of us. A blockade spanning the width of the street blocked our speeding HuCiv Liger from reaching our destination. Four big purple-alloy barriers prevented no passage, and the three gaps in between were filled in with tripod-mounted energy turrets. Fifty aliens, ranging from the frogs to the lizards, faced in our direction as our SUV screamed towards them in the early hours of the morning.

Hopefield looked from the blockade to Mathers several times, "What the fuck are we going to do?"

Mathers floored the SUV, "We're going to have to go right through them, hol-"

Mathers didn't finish his sentence as plasma lashed across the front of the Liger and blasted through the front windshield. Everybody except Mathers, who was screaming in fury as we accelerated towards the aliens, covered their heads and buried them into our laps. I glanced upwards and saw blue bolts of light crash through the front window, burning away at the headrest of Hopefield's seat and melting leather around my boots. The flood of burning hot plasma ripped into Mathers' chest armor and peeled away the skin beneath it. His agonizing scream of pain was silenced as a crystalline needle blasted through his skull, spraying blood, brains, and bits of bone all over the interior of the vehicle. All of us were cast with the remains of Mather's head, much to our horrified disgust. Gallagher swore loudly as Mathers was killed and we swerved out of control, crashing through the alien blockade. A plasma turret with its squat user flew over our hood and roof as we plowed through the assembly of invaders.

"Grab the wheel! Grab the fucking wheel!" I screamed as we curved sideways, heading towards the front doors of an apartment building. Hopefield grabbed the blood-covered steering wheel and jerked it to the right, sending us barreling through an intersection and down the final stretch of road before we reached the stadium. The remaining flier returned and cut into our erratically moving Liger once more with a stream of plasma, melting the roof inwards as the metal was shaped into a concave valley.

"We can't take much more of this Sarge!" I yelled as Hopefield, now in command of the mission, yanked the slick steering wheel back and forth as he tried to keep the SUV on the road. Mather's dead body lolled sideways, his bloody half of a head smearing brains and blood onto Sergeant First Class Hopefield's uniform and face. The Sergeant tried not to throw up.

We carved down a residential area filled with the remains of bungalows, their occupants either dead or evacuated. The enemy flier was still hot on our tail, blasting at the rear of our vehicle like a dog nipping your heels. As soon as we sped past the first residential block, things got worse.

"After four hundred meters, you will reach your destination," a somewhat artificial sounding female voice spoke from Mather's tacpad.

Hopefield swerved us past a parked vehicle, "Almost there, hang on!"

The alien aircraft, seemingly tired of this chase, decided to do something that I had yet to see from the enemy fliers. With a loud _whoosh_ and the noise of plasma crackling through the cool morning air, a massive blob of green energy impacted the ground beside the SUV, sending bits of concrete and dirt into the air like a geyser.

"Jesus Christ! What the bloody hell was that?" Mackenzie shouted as the explosion rang in our ears.

Gallagher clutched her MA5B tighter, "Their fliers have those bombs or something, they are powerful and damn accurate. Basically a point-and-shoot weapon." As if on cue, another flash of brilliant green filled my peripheral vision followed by an explosion.

"Shite!" Mackenzie shouted as he braced himself against the back of Valdez's seat.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

The rear wheels of our battered SUV lifted off the ground and kept spinning. I fell towards the front of the vehicle, clamping my teeth down hard on my tongue. I felt the wind get knocked out of me as I was forcefully thrown against the back of Hopefield's seat and my M6J flew out of my hands. The SUV flipped onto its roof and slid along the street for several meters before grinding to a stop. My legs came down and nearly hit Gallagher's face, my feet coming to a rest on either side of her shoulders.

I groaned as I opened my eyes. Blood welled from my lacerated tongue, the metallic taste filling my mouth as I spat out long streams of gooey red saliva. The concave roof dug uncomfortably into my backside, making me roll over towards the side door. The enemy flier turned and left the scene, disappearing over the tops of the tall buildings several blocks away. I felt around the smoky interior as I lay on my stomach, my exposed fingertips brushing over the metal scope of my carbine. I pulled it under myself and lay on top of it, still extremely dazed from the explosion. The whole ordeal happened within a matter of seconds, so I don't know why I reached for my weapon first. I was totally out of it, but I suppose my subconscious thought that if we were attacked a weapon would surely help. After what seemed like minutes of just lying on what was once the interior roof of the SUV, my head shot upwards at the terrifying noise of footfall.

Alien footfall.

I looked down the residential street the way we came, towards the area where the single-story bungalows met the large skyscrapers of southern Durban. A large group of aliens, probably a small detachment sent out from the blockade, marched towards us, weapons at the ready. I counted at least fifteen frogs, eight birds, and five lizards. It would only be a matter of a minute or two before they would be upon us. I wasted no more time and crawled out the shattered side window of the SUV, my carbine nestled in my arms.

I staggered to my feet, emerging bloody and bruised from the crash. I was in total awe of the fact that the SUV had held up this long. The pockmarked exterior was almost completely stripped of paint, hot metal dripping down the sides as the superheated plasma ate its way through the vehicle. Mathers' body hung upside-down, dripping blood and other bodily productions onto the melted roof. Four more battered figures appeared from the smoldering wreck, and I identified them as my comrades. Although they barely looked like them. Their faces were covered in soot, blood, and grime. I doubted mine looked much different.

Within seconds the aliens unleashed their fury upon us, streams of blue and green came our way, and pink needles sailed through the air. The five of us ducked down behind the wreck in the middle of the suburban street.

Hopefield attached his SMG to his hip and loaded a round into his grenade launcher, "We have to move!"

"Excuse me Sergeant, but I dun' kno' if ye can see the feckin' aliens comin' at our throats. Its gonna be pretty hard ta move!" Mackenzie shouted, firing his assault rifle around the corner of the overturned vehicle. Moisture in the early morning early clung to our weapons, the barrel of Mackenzie's MA5B glinting in the rising morning sun. It was weird how nature found ways to distract you even in the most dire of situations.

We were truly fucked, however.

I popped over the top of the SUV and fired two rounds from my M6J, crippling a frog alien. Two crystalline shards whizzed past my head, causing me to duck back down behind the ruined vehicle. Hopefield popped his 40mm towards the line of aliens, bringing down several of the frogs and two bird aliens. It wasn't enough though, the aliens were pressing hard and would undoubtedly overrun us.

The advancing enemy line, now less than thirty meters away, quickened their pace. The birds moved to the front, their colorful shields creating an impenetrable wall of light. Our weapons were useless, bullets pinged off of the energy shields harmlessly. We had a snowball's chance in hell of being able to fend off this onslaught, and if we exposed ourselves for even the slightest moment we would be killed. Low, manicured bungalows lined the entire street on either side, right down to the high school. We could possibly dash inside one of them and try to lose the aliens in the vast suburban sprawl, but I doubted that we could make it very far, at least without casualties. If we wanted to capture a Pelican, we needed as many people as we could get.

I peeked over the top of the overturned SUV once more, squeezing off another shot from my carbine. The Semi-Armor Piercing High-Explosive round caught a blue-armored lizard between the eyes, going right through his shimmering aura and out the back of his head. Purple blood arced through the air as the tall alien crumpled to the ground. The aliens _were_ stoppable. Individually, we could handle them, but when there was more than one of them, we struggled to keep them back. Not even ten days of fighting this new enemy showed me that there were in fact limits to the UNSC Army, and quite possibly the UNSC as a whole.

"Bad guy, coming out!" Valdez shouted.

A red-armored lizard broke the line and charged our pathetic encampment. He was _fast_. The muscular alien rolled past the SUV and stood up behind us. Valdez pivoted on his hind foot and blasted the alien with his shotgun, its shimmering aura deflecting the shell spread. The alien jolted forwards with lightning speed, roaring as it brought its armored foot into Valdez's stomach. The African-American was sent through the air like a ragdoll, hitting a low picket fence marking the front of somebody's property. I brought my carbine up, but the alien had way better reflexes than any human. It brought it's blue weapon down ontop of my head, and I felt the immense force through my helmet. I fell to the ground instantly, feeling my consciousness slowly leave my body as I lay face-down on the pavement. I struggled to keep my eyes open as my vision blurred and my world span. Hopefield, Gallagher, and Mackenzie got up and ran.

I could have sworn that Mackenzie hesitated for a moment.

All of this happened in a few short seconds, the red-armored alien rolled me onto my back with his foot and pointed a weapon at my face. As if God was watching down from above, I heard a noise that I had become all to familiar with over the years of being in the military.

_Crack. _

My executor stumbled backwards as a beautiful white trail of water vapor led right into its chest, and then disappearing seconds later. The alien looked up and fell backwards as another white trail went right to its head, effectively causing it to explode in a gore-filled shower of purple meat. Although I had never seen the effects of it on an alien, I immediately recognized the work of a System 99 Anti-Matérial Sniper Rifle.

"Nice shot..." I mumbled, I think. Then I thought to myself, _we didn't pack any sniper rifles..._

I sat up and got to my feet, my entire vision still very poor. I picked up my carbine lying nearby, and tried to make out the figures of the aliens. But all I heard was the _whoosh_ of a rocket launcher and the subsequent explosion that followed. Frogs, birds, and lizards all vanished in an explosion of body parts, as corpses and limbs were tossed all over the lawns and gardens of family homes. The remaining aliens were left disoriented and confused, and were quickly brought down by small-arms fire.

_We didn't pack any rocket launchers either..._

I stumbled backwards as the pain in my head surged. That alien had hit me _hard_, I had no doubt that I had a concussion, if not something worse. I felt something grab my shoulder, and I swung a left hook without hesitation. There was no way I was letting another alien touch me.

My fist was caught in a gloved hand, unmistakably human. I grunted as the pain in my head returned, and my vision blurred once more. I could not make out the features of the person infront of me.

"Are you alright, Clarke?" the person asked me.

_I know that voice. _

My vision cleared and I stared into a familiar face.

"Rhodes?"

I could not believe it. Staff Sergeant Christian Rhodes was _alive__. _My mouth was agape, what were the chances of finding each other out here?

Rhodes smiled through a grime-covered face, "In the flesh."

I could not believe it, "Oh my God, I thought you..."

"...Got killed?" Rhodes said, finishing my sentence.

I nodded, "Yeah. That bug-walker, Valdez told me that everybody got split up. I assumed the worst."

"I could say the same thing to you," Rhodes chuckled. "That was really fuckin' stupid of you to run back to Mack." The pain in my head surged forward again, and I fell forwards. Rhodes caught me and helped me stand.

"Woah, take it easy. Lets get you some first aid," Rhodes said, supporting me as we stood beside the overturned SUV.

I shook my head feverishly, causing the pain to intensify, "No.. no, there's no time. We have to get to the stadium."

Rhodes looked at me inquisitively, "Stadium?" The Sergeant slowly led me to the nearby bungalow, as I explained the circumstances of our situation. The subway hell-ride, the makeshift hospital, the mission, everything. By the time I had finished, I hadn't realized that we were already on the front porch of the bungalow. Rhodes opened the door and led me into a nicely decorated living space. I suppose medical attention was needed if we wanted to continue the mission.

"How many people did you say needed to be evacuated?" Rhodes asked, setting me down on a plush white couch.

"More than one hundred, at the least," I said, wincing as I slowly removed my helmet. It had been badly damaged, the top smashed inwards and cracked. It was pretty useless now, and wouldn't provide much protection if I took any sort of trauma to the head.

The Sergeant let out a low whistle, "Damn. In case you didn't know, a Pelican can't carry that many people..."

I rolled my eyes at Rhodes' sarcastic remark, "We have to go back and get the heavily wounded, return them to a proper facility, and then fly back with support."

Rhodes nodded as he took in the information, "Then we better get going soon. The sun is up and fliers get more active."

I rubbed my temples as the pain throbbed in my head again, "Fuck..."

"Mack! Get down here!" Rhodes called up the wooden stairs in the family room. Sun was coming in through the large windows in the room, illuminating the white-leather couches and similarly decorated furnishings. Mackenzie hobbled down the stairs, his leg wound still inhibiting him.

The Scottish medic sat down beside me and checked my head, "Time to return the favor, eh? You took a bloody hard hit."

Mackenzie felt around on top of my head and I grunted in pain, "Is Valdez alright?" The CQB specialist took a nastier hit than I did, and I was worried that he may not be able to continue onwards without help.

The Scotsman nodded and administered a stimpack and the pain in my head subsided a little, "He is alright, his armor absorbed alot of the impact. He probably has a few cracked ribs, but he will live ta see another day." I heard more footsteps clomping down the stairs. Valdez, Gallagher, Hopefield, and another Army trooper came down the stairs.

My eyebrows shot up and my mouth opened as I saw a familiar blonde-haired trooper, "O'Grady? Damn kid, glad to see you pulled through."

The tech specialist gave me a wide smile, "Im glad to see you did too, Clarke. Are you alright?"

I nodded, "Just a little scrape." I pursed my lips in thought, then asked Rhodes a question, "How did you guys get here? Like, how did you survive?"

Rhodes shrugged and slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, "After that walker tore through our lines, those who survived broke up into little groups. We maintained radio contact for a while but most groups went dark. Our group kept pushing to the North, trying to get back to Romeo Hotel. We thought you guys didn't make it for sure. We were riding with a Scorpion tank for a while until the fucking fliers vaporized the poor guy. This morning we were only a few blocks away when we heard gunfire, _human_ gunfire, and we thought that we could link up with whoever it was and get back to HQ together. We saw you guys and boy, we were in shock."

Mackenzie finished patching me up and I stood, the pain in my head subsided, and picked up my M6J, "Who else is in your group?" As if on cue, two more people came down the stairs, one carrying a sniper rifle and one with a rocket launcher on his back. Once again, I was in total bewilderment when I saw the two people standing in front of me.

"Private Clarke," Lieutenant Cheng Li said, adjusting the rocket launcher on his back, "You cease to amaze me."

Gunnery Sergeant Overholt stood beside the Japanese officer, attaching a suppressor to the end of her sniper rifle, "You can take a helluva beating, Private. Although I think Private Valdez here got it a bit worse than you."

I couldn't believe the amount of luck we had. Surviving up until now was nothing short of a miracle, and finding our squadmates and our superiors _alive_ was exactly that, a miracle. Now we had an even better chance of capturing a Pelican from the stadium. I had a feeling things were going to be alright.

Lieutenant Li spoke up, "Staff Sergeant Hopefield has filled me in on your situation. The high school isn't very far, but it looks like it may be a bit of a problem getting inside."

"Why is it a problem, sir?" Gallagher asked from the armchair across the room, resting her chin on the butt of her MA5B.

Lieutenant Li took his M7/Caseless SMG off of his thigh and rubbed it absent-mindedly, "Every entrance would be heavily guarded, and due to the amount of air traffic around here, I wouldn't be surprised if the aliens are using it as their own airfield."

Just then, an idea came to mind.

"Hey Sergeant Hopefield," I asked with a curious tone. "We still have those duffel bags in the SUV, right?"

Hopefield nodded, "Yeah, why?"

I only said one thing, "Cee-Four." Everybody in the room raised their eyebrows at that.

Valdez crossed his arms, "You do know that every alien within a mile would be all over us if we set that off."

I stood up and spread my hands in a dismissive gesture, "Exactly." Everybody gave different reactions, but I swear I saw the lightbulb go off in Lieutenant Li's head.

"I know what Private Clarke is getting at," the Asian officer began, "If we plant the explosives on one side of the stadium, say, underneath the north grandstand, every alien in the area will be over there checking it out. When they are distracted, we can literally walk right through the front entrance."

Now everybody understood what I was getting at.

Gunny Overholt clapped her hands and rubbed them together, "Sounds like we have a plan."

It only took five minutes to get everything together that we needed. I took a quick glance at my mission clock: **0554** hours. I guessed we could be inside the stadium and flying away in our Pelican by **0610**. By the turn of the next hour we would be loading up our Pelican with wounded and be back at Romeo Hotel by half past seven. We all met up by the back door of the modern, stainless-steel kitchen. I looked at the faces around me: Gallagher, Rhodes, O'Grady, Li, Hopefield, Overholt, Valdez, and Mackenzie. To be honest, I thought we had a pretty awesome squad going here. Such a wide array of skill sets from people of all different walks of life. That is one thing I like about being in the army, you get to meet so many different people from so many different places that you would have otherwise never met.

"Everybody ready?" Lieutenant Li asked, slapping a fresh magazine into his SMG. Everybody nodded.

Valdez pumped his shotgun, "Lets do this."

Lieutenant Li opened the back door and we jogged through the beautifully planted garden. Exotic flowers and shrubs were crushed and trampled on as we moved to the north end of the yard, hopping over the wooden fence. We continued to jog through backyards and hop over fences until we reached a large, recently-cut field. The trimmed grass was wet with morning dew, and the golden morning light of Epsilon Indi danced off of the droplets. This was definitely the field used for recreation at the high school. Several hundred meters away, an unspectacular building, which I assumed was the high school, sat in the morning light. Our objective, the football stadium, lay to the left, the crossed structure of the grandstands exposed to the elements. A large banner, bearing the words 'Go Eagles!' adorned the metal beams. Dozens of human corpses, both civilian and military, lay dead around the school. Looks like the evacuation of the school didn't go as planned.

We hung back in the shadow of the fence as a trio of alien fliers wailed overhead. Gunny Overholt dropped to one knee and scanned the school ground with the scope of her sniper rifle, "Two bird sentries on the roof of the school."

"Looks like they'll be in for a bit of a surprise, then," Lieutenant Li said fiendishly. "Drop 'em."

Gunny Overholt squeezed off one shot and then a second later another one, and the two bird-like figures disappeared from the top of the school. I had to admit, she wasn't a bad shot for a regular infantryman.

Lieutenant Li motioned us forward "Go."

We ran across the field and didn't stop until we reached the metal beams of the grandstand. I stayed a bit behind so Mackenzie wouldn't be exposed by himself, as he limp-ran across the field. Once the nine of us were assembled at the base of the grandstand, Lieutenant Li began whispering orders. Hopefield, Overholt, and Valdez were to go and watch around the corner of the school, and see how much resistance would be at the front. Rhodes, Gallagher, and himself would remain here and watch our rear approach, while O'Grady, Mackenzie, and myself would work our way around the left side of the stadium and plant the charges there. Once we had our orders, we set out and got them done.

The three of us crept around the left side of the stadium. It was difficult to remain stealthy as the morning sun was hitting us with no shadows to creep around in. We hugged the metal cross-beams until we reached the other side of the grandstands. The field continued this way, encircling the entire school except for the direct opposite side of the school, where the front entrance was located. A few of the bulbous blue tanks and a dozen of the purple fast-attack vehicles were parked in the field nearby, but no sentries were around. We continued onwards until we found a suitable spot for the charges.

"Right here should be good," I said, pointing to a large structural beam that supported the middle of this side of the stadium. Collapsing part of their airfield would most definitely cause chaos in this area.

We slipped into the maze of metal bars, flattening ourselves so that we could slip between the support beams and reach our objective. I placed the duffel bag full of C4 bricks on the ground and O'Grady and I began stacking them against the beam. Mackenzie covered our rear, making sure no aliens would catch whiff of what was up.

"You know what Santos would say if he was here?" I whispered to Mackenzie as I placed another brick of C4 onto our growing stack.

The Scottish man smiled as he looked down the sights of his MA5B, and we both said our Hispanic demolition expert's adopted catchphrase.

"Any problem can be solved with the proper application of high explosives," we both said in unison.

O'Grady gave me an inquisitive look, "Thats his catchphrase?"

"Set the charges O'Grady..." I said disapprovingly. Now wasn't really the time to talk about Santos' sayings.

The rookie raised his hands in defense and set the charges to be remote-detonated. Although Santos would have completed this much quicker, O'Grady was our tech specialist, and he could probably do it much faster than me. I let the kid do his work.

"Alright, we're good to go," O'Grady said, pocketing the detonator.

I nodded, "Good, lets get out of here." We worked our way back to Lieutenant Li, who was waiting with the rest of our ragtag group.

"Charges have been set, sir," I said, looking around to make sure we were still hidden.

Lieutenant Li nodded, "Good. The parking lot in the front of the school is crawling with aliens. We will have to do this quickly if we want to get that Pelican."

"If there _is_ a Pelican..." Mackenzie muttered. I punched his shoulder, way to keep the morale up. A pair of their Y-shaped dropships flew overhead, causing us to cling to the shadows of the stadium. Once they passed, we set our plan in motion.

The group of us moved to the large gap between the school and the stadium, where dozens of picnic tables with umbrellas sat, moisture collecting on their sun-baked fabric. Hundreds of dead students, teachers, and military servicemen lay dead in pools of their own blood.

"Goddamnit..." Hopefield muttered, stepping over the body of a young schoolgirl. The mood was tense, we all felt hatred for the aliens who had attacked this world. We would make them pay in blood for what they have done.

"Keep moving, we are almost there," Lieutenant Li said, his jaw clenched as we walked over the corpses of the students. We arrived at the arched tunnel that led into the stadium, and entered silently and stealthily.

The entire stadium itself was sunken into the ground, being able to accommodate many more people in the crowd. The rows and rows of seats led downwards towards the field, and the grandstands continued upwards above us. The tunnel itself was large, nearly twenty-five feet across and forty feet deep. We emerged with the sun beating down on us, taking in the view of the field.

Dozens of the purple-armored fliers sat in rows along the field, and six of the bulbous, blue dropships hovered several meters above the green astroturf. I estimated that nearly one hundred aliens were milling about on the field, mostly the small frog-aliens maintaining the aircraft. We scanned the field until we saw what we were looking for: a Pelican sitting near the far touchdown line. Although it was in rough shape, it still had its wings intact and the thrusters didn't look to bad. The remains of the UNSC encampment was evident. Debris from tents, crates, and other supplies were scattered around the field, and four other Pelicans were lying in complete disrepair. A pile of bodies, mostly airmen and a few army troopers, sat in the corner of the field. There were no alien bodies to join them.

Lieutenant Li, crouching with the rest of us, crinkled his nose as he took in the scene ahead, "We will have to sneak around the right side. We can come up right into the Pelican's bay."

We all nodded, prepared for the task of capturing the Pelican in the field. We had thought that this was suicide. Looks like we didn't give ourselves enough credit to get this far, _and _find some of our comrades in the process. Now we just had one more step until we were finished. We moved along the right side of the stadium, staying hidden as we crouched behind the rows of seats. Once we reached the other side of the stadium, we looked down the length of the football field, and the bay door of the Pelican.

"Think you can fly it in that shape?" I whispered to Gallagher, who was clenching her assault rifle tightly.

The Senior Airman shrugged, "Only one to find out."

"As soon as that Cee-Four detonates, haul ass to the Pelican." Lieutenant Li turned to O'Grady, "Alright Specialist, hit it." O'Grady nodded and pulled the detonator out of his pocket, he looked at the large structural beam and then pressed the pulsing blue button on the detonator's screen.

The explosion was massive.

We placed close to forty bricks of C4 around that beam, but the resulting explosion was far more powerful than we had expected. The deafening _boom_ followed by the loud groaning of the metal beam definitely caught the alien's attention, not just to the noise but to the black cloud of oily smoke roiling into the air. The grandstands trembled as the structural support gave away and the seats collapsed. The stands fell backwards and then dislodged itself from the ground, pushing thousands of pounds of concrete and metal towards the field.

By the time the explosion had died down we had already reached the bottom of the stairs and were opening the bay door of the Pelican. Gallagher pulled a lever on the exterior and the bay door opened like a yawning mouth. Gallagher rushed to the front and took the pilot's seat, while Lieutenant Li sat in the co-pilots seat.

"Seventy millimeter autocannon, two ANVIL missile pods... this baby is fully armed and updated," Gallagher said as she hit various buttons and flicked switches, causing the Pelican to roar to life.

I looked into the cockpit with Rhodes and we cheered as the Pelican began to hum as it's engines began to work.

"Haha! I knew it would work!" Valdez said happily, raising his shotgun above his head in victory.

_We did it_, I thought to myself, _we actually did it._ We had actually managed to capture a Pelican from the hands of this relentless enemy. I could not believe it. Its one of those things that you have an inkling of an idea about, but you never actually believe you can get it done. I stood with the rest of our group, keeping our weapons trained on the open bay door in case any of the aliens decided to poke their heads around.

"Get this door closed, Airman!" Gunny Overholt shouted, flipping a lock of red hair out of her eyes as it dangled down from beneath her helmet.

Gallagher grunted, "I'm trying, ma'am. This damn bird won't cooperate."

The pile of rubble shifted outside, and the sound of screeching metal scraped in our ears. The Pelican jolted to the side, causing all of the standing occupants to stumble towards the left side of the Pelican.

"What the fuck was that?" Rhodes asked, looking back into the cockpit.

Gallagher spoke in a panicked tone, "Your explosion worked _too _well. Debris is holding the wing down!" We all congregated around the viewports on the right side of the Pelican, gazing out into the field of metal and concrete. A large curved piece of metal was now preventing the Pelican from lifting off, bent over the right wing of the transport craft. I cursed under my breath, words that I would never say in the vicinity of Jen or Maddy.

"Shit!" Sergeant First Class Hopefield said, pushing past Gunny Overholt and O'Grady, heading towards the open bay door. The surviving aliens, now aware of the active human aircraft, began diverting their attention towards us. Plasma bolts and pink spikes crashed against the Pelican, causing Gallagher to lift the Pelican a few feet off the ground, but not enough to escape the weight of the metal beam. The pilot brought to life the 70mm autocannon, setting the controls to the co-pilot's console.

"Lieutenant, sir, I'm handing the main gun over to you, i've got to try and get this bucket of bolts into the air," Gallagher said from the cockpit. Lieutenant Li fired the chin-mounted machine gun, cutting down the aliens as they appeared from the rubble. Usually the chainguns were controlled from the pilot's helmet, but seeing as Gallagher didn't have a proper helmet at the moment, they had to resort to firing the weapon manually.

Hopefield jumped out of the bay, SMG at the ready.

"Sergeant Hopefield, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Lieutenant Li shouted over the SQUADCOM. We hadn't used our radios, due to the fact that the aliens always seemed to be tracking us. But right now, it didn't matter, we were compromised and we had to get in the air.

We all gawked at the Sergeant First Class, who was moving around to the right side of the Pelican. "Sergeant Hopefield!" Lieutenant Li shouted over the COM, "Get your ass back in here, thats an order!"

The muscular Sergeant First Class fired his SMG into the rubble, killing two frog aliens and crippling a shielded bird. He holstered his SMG and pushed against the metal beam, straining as the massive piece of metal barely moved. It would take much more than the strength of one man to move the beam enough to give it the momentum to fall over again.

The Sergeant didn't acknowledge the Lieutenant's orders.

Hopefield's veins bulged and his face reddened as he tried to move the immense weight of the large piece of rebar. You would expect that a Pelican, being able to carry a 66 tonne Scorpion tank, would have the ability to lift a piece of rebar weighing several thousand pounds. We had learned in basic training that the Pelican's weight carrying capacity came from it's two main engines located in the center of the craft, and the ten maneuvering thrusters that were found on it's wings. If you have a heavy weight on half of those thrusters, which allow the craft to take off and land, then you will find that it would be much more difficult to move. The heavy loads were placed in the very middle of the Pelican not only for thruster purposes, but also for balance purposes as well. This piece of metal was literally _forcing_ the right wing of the Pelican into the ground, no wonder we couldn't take off.

Plasma bolts and pink spikes collided with the front of the Pelican as more and more aliens emerged from the rubble and from nearby deployments. Lieutenant Li was relentless with the chin-mounted machine gun, mowing down wave after wave of enemy infantry. Sergeant Hopefield was nearly hit on several occasions, but he managed to keep the force on the metal beam. We were fucked, once again. The 70mm autocannon only had so much ammunition, and Hopefield could only keep up with his fruitless efforts for so long. If we couldn't take off, we were as good as dead.

I racked the bolt on my M6J Carbine and headed for the bay door, which was still not closed, and jumped out of the back of the Pelican and onto the astroturf. Hot air was blown outwards from the Pelican as the thrusters struggled to free the aircraft from the immense weight of the support beam. I fired my M6J at the aliens, who were now aware of a second figure emerging from the aircraft.

I moved over to Hopefield, laying down covering fire as I went. I shouldered my weapon and nodded at the Sergeant First Class, who was beat red from the strain. I grabbed a hold of the rough rebar and pushed outwards, adding my strength to his. The piece of metal moved slightly, lessening the weight off of the Pelican's wing. I felt the blood rush to my head as I pushed, grunting as the immense weight slowly, but surely, moved.

I felt a presence behind me and looked over my shoulder, seeing Mackenzie, Valdez, O'Grady, Rhodes, and Gunnery Sergeant Overholt landed on the astroturf and lay down covering fire. Valdez, Rhodes, and Mackenzie added their strength to ours, as O'Grady and Gunny Overholt continued to cover us from behind. With one mighty push the metal rebar scraped along the wing of the Pelican and slipped off the end, landing with an almighty crash that was audible over the sounds of battle. The aircraft teetered in the air as the weight was lifted, finally free from the constraints of the ground.

"That did it! Nice work, troopers," Lieutenant Li praised from the cockpit, still firing the autocannon. We continued to shoot at the aliens as we slowly backed up towards the bay doors.

Senior Airman Gallagher's voice crackled over the SQUADCOM, "We have to move, this thing is nearly running on fumes."

"Everybody into the bay, now!" Gunny Overholt shouted, killing a lizard that poked it's head over the rubble with her sniper rifle. O'Grady, Valdez, Overholt, and Mackenzie clambered into the Pelican, which was now hovering four and a half feet off of the ground. Rhodes, Hopefield and myself were nearly into the bay when Gallagher let out a cry of surprise.

"Shit, they've got heavies!"

I barely caught a glance at a group of green-armored frogs with the shoulder-mounted golden weapons that were their equivalent of our rocket launchers. They fired their payload, green globs of energy sizzling through the air.

Gallagher pulled the Pelican up into the air, narrowly avoiding the energy rockets. Rhodes, Hopefield and myself dived out of their path, hitting the astroturf like football players getting the touchdown. The globs of energy exploded against the grandstands behind us, instantly vaporizing the seats that got in their way. We were now completely exposed, with nearly one hundred aliens trying to kill us.

"I can't risk coming down and landing, we will barely make it back to the apartment building with this amount of fuel." Gallagher said with a hint of fear. "I'll fly low, you will have to run." We fired from kneeling positions, trying to keep the aliens at bay.

Rhodes gritted his teeth, "Is she serious?"

Gallagher came in low several feet ahead of us, moving at an incredibly fast speed for running. For a Pelican, it was a snail crawl, for us, it was like sprinting in the Olympics. We blasted away from out position, sprinting as fast as we could after the departing Pelican. Our comrades inside of the bay were shouting and beckoning to us, trying to get us to run faster. It wasn't helping.

We charged through a crowd of surprised aliens, most of which had dived out of the way to avoid getting hit by the low-flying Pelican. We shot at them, sometimes point-blank as we continued to sprint down the field like football players on game night. The rows of alien fliers were lined on either side of us, it felt like running down a purple-armored corridor. The dropships, however, hovered at the end of the field. We had only five or six seconds before the Pelican would have to bank up and fly away, leaving us at the hands of the enemy.

I powered ahead, the inferno growing larger in my chest, my legs pleading for me to surrender, and the unhinged hammering of my heart as it nearly exploded out of my chest. I was less than a foot away from the bay door, and I reached out and clawed at the ramp. I flung my M6J carbine into the bay, not even hearing it smash against the wall to the cockpit. My torn-gloved fingers caught on the metal grate of the blood tray, my feet beginning to drag as I tried to keep up with the Pelican. O'Grady and Mackenzie grabbed my arms and pulled me in, sliding on my belly like a penguin as I was hauled into the bay. Rhodes entered in a similar manner, having Valdez and Overholt pull him inside of the Pelican's belly.

I flipped over and sat up, the field racing by beneath us as Hopefield continued to run after the Pelican, the aliens hot on his heels, plasma bolts and pink spikes vaporizing the synthetic grass all around his feet.

I crawled out as far as I could on my belly and extended my arm, "Sergeant! Grab my hand!"

"We have to pull up!" Gallagher shouted, as the Pelican began to ascend. Hopefield heaved and panted as he extended his arm towards mine, dropping his SMG. He was barely out of reach, and we were nearly out of time.

"JUMP!" I screamed as loud as I could. Sergeant First Class Hopefield used the last of his energy to propel himself off of the ground. His fingers brushed mine, but did not find a hold. The muscular man fell face-first onto the astroturf as we banked upwards and away from the stadium.

"Fuck!" I shouted, my arm still outstretched towards the rapidly shrinking field. I could make out the form of Hopefield rolling onto his back and pulling out his sidearm, shooting at the triumphant aliens.

"We have to turn back, Hopefield is still down there!" O'Grady demanded over the SQUADCOM.

Gallagher slammed her fist on the console with obvious frustration, "There isn't enough fuel, we have to complete the mission." She too wanted to turn back, but she would never agree to it, years of flying experience advised against it. Mackenzie and Rhodes pulled me away from the open bay as the doors closed. I stood up and went to the cockpit.

"Lieutenant Li sir, one of the sayings in the Army is that no man is left behind," I said with a sharp tone. "Hopefield is still alive down there, and we still have time to save him."

Lieutenant Li removed his headset and stared ahead, "There are many more people's lives in our hands, Private. The Sergeant knew what he signed up for when he volunteered for your mission, as did you. You all knew the risks that it involved and you were willing to take them, no matter what the cost. Do no let his death be in vain."

I leaned up against the wall of the entrance to the cockpit, kicking my M6J away from me. As much as I hated to admit it, the Lieutenant was right. Two lives had been lost on this escapade, and there was the old saying, 'Kill a few to save the many'. I looked at my Heads-Up Display, seeing Hopefield's vitals completely flatlined. Lieutenant Li, who had taken charge of the mission, put Hopefield's name in the K.I.A. column, beneath that of MWO Mathers.

Mackenzie put a hand on my shoulder and leaned into the cockpit, speaking with venom dripping from his voice, "Sir, we can at least avenge his death. We can make those bastards pay for what they have done. Not only to Hopefield, but to every single slaughtered human on this planet."

Gallagher pursed her lips and didn't even wait for the Asian officer to respond. She halted the Pelican and spun it one hundred and eighty degrees, arming the ANVIL missile pods.

"For Mathers, and Hopefield."

She pressed a white button on her console and the sixteen ANVIL missiles streaked away from the Pelican, criss-crossing down towards the stadium. I looked out the viewports just in time to see the explosives crash into the remaining structure, bringing the entire makeshift airfield down on itself. The dozens of alien aircraft and any surviving aliens disappeared in a cloud of dust and smoke.

Gallagher waited a moment and then spun the Pelican around, heading back towards the south where we would finally be able to collect the heavily wounded and refuel at the apartment. From there we would return to Command, wherever Command was right now, and return with more help.

I sat down in a bucket seat beside Mackenzie, putting my head into my hands. I rubbed my eyes with my palms and then took them away, seeing how bloody and grimy they were. I took the gloves off and let my hands breath, rubbing some of the cuts with my other hand. Most of my fingernails were bloody or missing, but they would grow back. So many people had died in such a short amount of time, and here I was complaining over missing fingernails. Millions of people had perished on Biko, and I had no doubt that the death toll would keep climbing. We had to keep the climb low, however, until the navy got here with more reinforcements. We would keep the citizens safe until the aliens would be kicked right off of this planet, and everybody would be able to sleep easy knowing the UNSC Army had triumphed once again, one victory at a time.

I removed the wrinkled photo of my family out of my breast pocket, my hand brushing the metallic surfaces of dogtags I had retrieved from fallen comrades over the days. I stared at the serene photo of Jen, Maddy, and myself smiling on the beach. My thumb glided over the laminated surface, stopping between my wife and my daughter.

A faint grin touched my lips. We had won, this morning. This was a victory, and victories were good. But over the years I had learned, however, that victories would never come for free. There would always be casualties, there would always be people dying and families losing loved ones. In the beginning I was determined not to be one of them, not to be the extra singular digit listed at the end of a casualty report sitting on the desk of a General at HIGHCOM. But now I realized you do not chose your fate. If Death comes knocking on your door in the middle of the night, it would be foolish to run as he will always get you in the end.

Mackenzie nudged me, his grimy, blood streaked face giving me a small smile, "Ya did good, Clarke." I nodded and returned the smile. Today we came out on top, and I should be happy about that. I looked out the viewport and down upon the destroyed city below. Flashes of green and blue, as well as bursts of orange could be seen occasionally, more soldiers fighting for their lives while we hid up here in the clouds. I hoped that they would survive, too.

We had won today, but not without paying the price of victory.


	13. Chapter 13: No More Heroes Today

Chapter 13: No More Heroes Today

**0700 hours, May 25 2525, (Military Calendar)/  
>Durban, Biko<strong>

I braced myself against the back of the seat as the Pelican descended gently to the ground, Gallagher controlling the winged behemoth with unusual casualness. The bay door opened with a soft _hiss_, and we were greeted with the warmth and glow of the early morning sun.

Lieutenant Li ducked out of the cockpit, "Lets go Clarke, on your feet."

I put my battered hands around the barrel of my M6J and stood, arching my stiff back in an attempt to relieve some of the bothering ache. I was the last to step out of the Pelican and into the ruined street outside of the office building housing our comrades. The numbing fear of these aliens filled every one of us. They had managed to bring the capital of Biko to it's knees in a matter of days, slaughtering every man, woman, and child that came within their extraterrestrial sights. Durban would be overrun, no doubt. I had no idea how the brass planned on protecting every civilian until they came up with a solution to force the aliens off of the planet.

I was scared.

Our returning force, consisting of Lieutenant Li, Gunny Overholt, Mackenzie, Valdez, Rhodes, O'Grady, Gallagher, and myself, were met by a half dozen army troopers on the debris-filled street in front of the office building. Our makeshift landing zone was surrounded by a handful of hastily erected defensive placements, nothing more than a semicircle of sandbags around the entrance and a few brick piles stacked in hopes of stopping the alien's powerful weaponry.

"Holy shit," murmured a young Private with a bloody bandage around his left arm. "They actually did it."

We entered the building, leaving the warm morning air behind us. Mackenzie and I had entered from the opposite side of the building the night before, but this entrance fared no better than it's counterpart. Charred flooring, scorched wood, and bullet holes riddled in the walls were the remaining decorations of the smallish foyer. Two bird aliens lay dead in pools of darkening purple blood, their wiry frames filled with 7.62mm rounds. Leaving Gallagher and the sentry troopers behind, the group of us clomped up the stairwell to the top floor of the building.

Upon entering the inhabited floor, we immediately noticed one thing. Whereas the night before there were just under one hundred people, the half-ruined main hallway was packed full of civilians and military personnel alike. People were shoulder-to-shoulder along the walls - sitting, sleeping, crying. Ammunition crates had been removed from the hallway to house the sheer number of refugees, many now staying the north rooms exposed to the elements from above. You could almost feel the sorrow in the air.

"Woah..." Valdez breathed, summing up what Mackenzie and myself were thinking. Li, Rhodes, Overholt, and O'Grady were thinking along similar lines, although they had never been here before. I spotted a familiar face among the crowd of people.

"Doc," I called out, approaching Doc Chagny as he administered a liquid medicine to a toddling boy. The French doctor looked up at me, dark circles accenting his bloodshot eyes. The doctor's blank expression slowly changed to one of surprise.

"You return," Doc Chagny said tiredly, early morning light illuminating his blood-encrusted shirt. "Did you manage to capture a Pelican?"

I nodded and slung my carbine over my shoulder, "Yes sir, the bird is waiting on the street below."

Chagny nodded several times, "Commander Masters is in the room at the end of the hall, third from the last on your right. He has been waiting for you to come back." I gave the doctor a casual salute and proceeded down the hallway, stepping over people's legs as I went. Troopers muttered to each other and watched us as we passed, awe-stricken by our return. I could hear the French doctor giving orders to his staff, preparing for the evacuation of the wounded. I felt an elbow nudge my side.

"I thought you said there were only a couple dozen people here," Rhodes asked with an inquisitive look.

I shrugged, "Alot can happen in a few hours. People must have been picked up by the sentries as they tried to move around in the streets once the sun came up."

Rhodes gave a sidelong glance at a Falcon pilot slumped against the wall, a bloody rag wrapped around his left hand, and his other arm in a loose sling. Three of his fingers were missing. "Alot of people must have been holed up for a long time. God knows how many more are out there."

We approached the end of the hallway and entered the makeshift office of Commander Masters, the ONI officer who had gifted us this suicide mission. I entered the dusty office, morning sunlight filtering through a single grime-covered window. Hundreds of dust particles danced in the rays of light, brightening the otherwise dreary office. A large ammunition crate served as a desk and a flimsy metal chair gave the Navy officer little in the ways of comfort. A few papers with handwritten notes were spread out on the ammunition crate, and a glowing holopad seemed to only serve the purpose of a paperweight. Commander Masters was leaning against the wall next to the window, gazing out at the rubble-filled street below. His forehead was now wrapped in a bandage, blood seeping from beneath. A magnum protruded above his grimy tunic, allowing for quick and easy access if necessary.

"Commander Masters, sir," I said, entering the office. The rest of the recovery team shuffled in behind me and stood in a semi-circle around the "desk". Commander Masters looked away from the window suddenly, as if he had been shook from sleep. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly towards his bloody hairline as he looked upon the group of battered ground-pounders.

"Private Clarke," Masters said, meeting the gaze of the troopers in front of him. "Do you have the Pelican?"

I nodded once, "Yes sir, Gallagher has it ready to go on the street out front. Doc Chagny is getting the wounded ready, he's just waiting for your go."

The Commander gave a grunt of acknowledgment before his brows furrowed, "Where is Mathers and Hopefield?"

I licked my dry lips, "They didn't make it, sir."

The Commander lowered his gaze and nodded, "They knew what came with the mission. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten." Masters picked up the holopad off of his desk and tapped the screen a few times.

"You picked up a few more troopers on your way back, Private?"

Lieutenant Li stepped in, "Commander, sir, I'm Lieutenant Li. Sixth battalion, Third Infantry," Li looked at the others in the group, "This is Gunnery Sergeant Overholt, Staff Sergeant Rhodes, and Specialist O'Grady. Clarke, Valdez, and Mackenzie are my men, too.

The Commander looked up from the holopad, "You've got yourself a good group of soldiers, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir, they get the job done."

Commander Masters put the device down on the ammunition crate and ran both hands through his jet-black hair, "Well Lieutenant," he turned to Gunny Overholt and nodded, "Gunnery Sergeant, we need to get this evacuation organized."

"We can get it done, sir."

"Tell the good to doctor to put the heavily wounded aboard the Pelican," Masters said. "Spread word that evacuation is on its way. These people have been through enough already, they deserve a bit of hope."

Lieutenant Li cocked his head slightly, "_Is_ evac on its way, sir? For everyone?"

"Pray to God that your pilot makes it to the safe zone." Masters slid the holopad across the crate, "Give this to Airman Gallagher. It is our current SitRep that must be given to whoever is in charge, wherever she lands."

The Lieutenant picked up the holopad. He nodded and snapped a crisp salute with Gunny Overholt, and they left the room.

Commander Masters swung his heavy gaze to our reunited squad, "This is your actual squad, correct, Staff Sergeant?"

"All but one, sir," Rhodes responded. Santos had been wounded during the initial attack on Juravinski Boulevard, and had been taken away to Romeo Hotel with the rest of Second Platoon's wounded the last time we had been resupplied. If he was dead or alive, we wouldn't have any way of knowing.

"Get some food into you, and see if somebody can take a look at those injuries. Dismissed." He turned back towards the window and clasped his hands behind his back, starring out across the ruined city. Rhodes looked at us and then back at the unattentive naval officer. He saluted and put his helmet on. We did not expect any praise for the mission, especially not from an ONI officer. Rest was a reward in itself.

"Alright, lets go. It's been a long couple of hours," Rhodes said, leading us back into the crowded hallway.

I adjusted the carbine on my shoulder and proceeded into the bustling hallway, troopers and medical personnel carrying stretchers with the wounded towards the far stairwell. It would definitely take more than one trip for Gallagher to ferry all these people to a safe zone. The amount of disorganization, the undoubtedly hundreds of groups like us trapped around Durban, and the fact that the city was surrounded made things a hell of a lot more difficult for any rescue attempt. I hadn't seen even one functioning armored vehicle since the initial days of fighting on Biko, proving that the 19th Armored Division was finding things very difficult in the streets of Durban.

I wiggled past stretcher-bearers bringing a woman with a giant mound of bloody wraps around her chest to the far stairwell, her face turning white from the blood loss. I looked away as a wailing child, no older than four or five, ran after what was presumably his mother on the stretcher, his anguished father holding him back. I pursed my lips and turned away, continuing down the hallway behind my squadmates.

Another woman was sitting on the floor, cradling a teenage boy in her arms. She was weeping, and covered in grime and cuts. Her son's plaid shirt was terribly scorched along his back, fused to his skin and burnt to a blackened crisp. It was clear that the aliens had no problem shooting him in the back. His shaggy blond hair accented his hazel eyes, glazed over with the gleam of death. His dirty face was soft and welcoming, his jaw hanging open slightly. I bent down and smiled gently, wishing my appearance wasn't so dirty and battered. She looked up at me, tears cutting lines through her filthy cheeks. She looked back down at her son and stroked his hair, sniffing and weeping loudly. Her hand raised to his dead eyes, trembling.

She looked up at me again, "Can... Can y-you..."

I understood what she wanted, and I took her fragile hand in mine, ensuring my torn gloves did not give any discomfort to her. I took my other hand and slowly lowered it over the boy's face, and shut his eyelids. The woman burst into loud sobs, squeezing my hand tightly. I held on for a moment before biting my lip and taking my hand away from hers. The woman put her head to her son's, and rocked him back and forth. I stood up and proceeded down the hallway, trying to contain my emotions. I was filled with so much confusion and remorse for all these utterly innocent people. Why had these aliens come here? What did they want? Why did they want to kill us? I had so many questions and absolutely no way of receiving answers.

I felt helpless, really.

The last of the heavily wounded people disappeared down the stairwell. A cold feeling formed in my stomach as I thought about Gallagher not coming back. We had eliminated a local enemy airfield, yes, but the aliens were beating us on virtually every front. Gallagher's lone Pelican, realistically, had a snowball's chance in hell of reaching the safe zone unmolested. The odds were stacked against us. If Gallagher couldn't reach any friendly forces, we might as well have died at the stadium. She was our best chance, our worst chance, and our only chance of making it out of this building alive. It was an insane paradox which we had to accept.

Our fatigued squad rested in what could pass as a recreation room, ravenously devouring whatever share of food we could get our hands on. Three couches arranged in a U-shape faced a kitchenette, the coffee and dining tables had been removed for defensive or medical purposes. We sat down on the couches, taking our first breath of relaxation since we had escaped Juravinski Boulevard. There wasn't anything we could do besides get in the way of the medical staff.

Rhodes placed his assault rifle across his lap, "And now we wait."

We sat in silence, the minutes on my mission clock ticking by slowly. I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening. The alien invaders had smashed through our defenses and defeated us every time we tried to hold them back. Who knew how many people had been needlessly killed? The thousands upon thousands of bodies carpeting the streets were a testament to the alien's combat capabilities. I couldn't help but wonder if, or when, I would join the body count. I forced the thought out of my mind. I had a family. A family that relied on me to give them the things they needed, a family that needed me to protect them. I could not, no, I _would_ not die out here, I would not become another digit on the casualty report.

I rested my head on the back of the couch and cradled the M6J in my arms. I stared up at the ceiling and let my mind fill with thoughts of home.

I was in a deep sleep when the building shook. The explosion was big, knocking things off of the counter and causing dust to rain down from above. I snapped my eyes open and reflexively grabbed my carbine.

Valdez jumped up from the couch he was sleeping on, "What the fuck was that?" A young Warrant Officer ducked ran into the doorway with a twisted look on his face as pure chaos ensued in the hallway. I could hear the steady _ratatatatatatata_ of a .50 caliber machine gun joined by the dozens of roars from other automatic weapons.

"Get up! Get up!"

Rhodes slapped his helmet on and racked the bolt on his assault rifle, "Only one way to find out."

We picked up our weapons and entered the stampede of people in the hallway. The noise was deafening as people screamed in panic and ran around aimlessly. We shoved our way to the stairwell and followed the stream of troopers and other military personnel down the steps. The flood of soldiers exploded out of the doorway and into the lobby, but it might as well have been hell.

The machine gun emplacement in front of the elevator strafed the entrance of the building as aliens flooded inwards, their weapons spitting globs of energy and crystalline shards of death at us. The entire entrance had been blown away, creating a hole ten meters across the front of the lobby. The gunfire and shouting was insanely amplified by the walls of the lobby. I dived behind the reception desk enclave with the rest of my squad, joining the group of soldiers already in cover.

"Cut them down! Push forward into the street!" Commander Masters shouted, firing his magnum over the desk.

Rhodes sidled up beside him, "Sir, I highly advise that we do not go out there. The safest-"

"I know the dangers, Sergeant," Masters snapped. "But we cannot stay here any longer. If they manage to push us back in to the building, there will be no way of escaping."

Rhodes ducked down a little lower as a green energy bolt sizzled overhead, "And what do you plan on doing when we get outside?" I saw Masters' sharp features twitch ever so slightly. The lives of hundreds of people rested on this spook's shoulders like a ton of bricks.

The ONI officer reloaded his magnum. "You hope that you don't run out of ammunition, Sergeant."

I looked over at Mackenzie, his teeth bared, contributing his MA5B to the storm of bullets. My gaze then carried over to O'Grady, clutching his assault rifle nervously. His face was chalk-white.

"Hey rook, you alright?" I shouted in his face. O'Grady looked up at me slowly and gave no response. The kid had broken under the stress. I tapped Rhodes on the shoulder and he looked sharply back at me.

"O'Grady is done."

Rhodes looked at the young Specialist, then back at me, "Nothing we can do about him now, Clarke."

The aliens began to pull back into the street, their bodies piling around the entrance that they had created. Commander Masters signaled the dozens of troopers, pilots, and navy crewmen forward as we charged out the entrance, guns ablaze.

We rushed into the morning sunlight and took cover wherever we could find it. Cars, the low wall around the perimeter of the building, and a wrecked Falcon were used as protection from the burning globs of energy. I dashed behind a section of wall and downed a small frog alien with two shots to the lower torso. It was right then and there that I realized the number of enemies we currently faced. Upwards of two hundred aliens - mostly frogs and the vulture-bird aliens with a handful of lizards thrown in - arranged themselves in a semi-circle around the building. They must have been moving north into the city, towards the bulk of the fighting, and spotted the sentries. That was a clear giveaway that there was something in our building that was worth our while to defend.

A lattice of green, blue, and pink filled the air above me. Popping my head up for a nanosecond would send me to the afterlife. I looked around the corner of the wall and watched as many people collapsed to the pavement, a swift end to this nightmare. I was about to consider the idea that we were all going to die when a blonde-haired navy crewman pointed up into the sky.

"Oh my God, they're here!" she screamed, barely audible above all the noise. Gallagher's mangled bird and a trio of Pelicans with troop deployment pods attatched to their underbellies descended from the clouds, but they might as well have been chariots from Heaven. They unleashed their ANVIL missiles and their 70mm nose cannons into the alien onslaught. The lattice of energy was momentarily lifted, but a moment was all that we needed.

"The cavalry has arrived, get the civilians out here, NOW!" Commander Masters screamed from behind the wrecked Falcon. The aliens staggered around in a daze, dozens of them lying crumpled on the ground. We threw grenades and pumped as much lead as we could into them as civilians streamed out of the entrance towards the Pelicans. We mopped up the remaining aliens, leaving them in a lake of their iridescent blood.

Lieutenant Li appeared beside the mob of civilians, "Troopers! Get these civies moving, we don't have all day." I jogged over to the column and ushered hundreds of Durban's residents towards the awaiting Pelicans.

Mackenzie appeared beside me, "Do ya think those birds can carry 'em all?" I looked sidelong at the awaiting Pelicans. The troop deployment pods could carry somewhere around eighty people before she was beyond carrying capacity. I examined the mob of people being herded towards the Pelicans. There must be three hundred people here, plus another hundred military personnel. Add the wounded to that and you had close to eight hundred people.

I rubbed my mouth worriedly and turned to Mackenzie. I shook my head subtlely. "They would need to make three or four trips."

"They migh' have ta leave some behind." Mackenzie said, looking down the column and waving his hand to urge people forwards. "Those bloody aliens could be back any time."

An older woman in the column looked at him wide-eyed and began to panic. "Oh my God... they're going to leave some of us behind?" People around the woman began repeating her, and soon everybody began to panic. She was the match that lit the fuse. Mackenzie and I looked between each other and the crowd multiple times, mouths agape.

"No! No! Nobody is going to be left behind!" I shouted in a vain attempt to calm the crowd. The message of abandonment spread through the crowd, and people became hysteric. The crowd surged forward with a sudden resolve. The soldiers attempting to keep order soon lost control of the mob.

Mackenzie tried to produce an excuse for his slip of the tongue, "Bloody hell! What did I-"

"Incoming!" a trooper screamed at the top of his lungs, cutting Mack off. I looked up behind me and raised my M6J. I looked up into the sky and saw dozens of massive, blue balls of energy crackling through the warming morning air.

"RUN!" I screamed, putting my carbine over my shoulder and sprinting towards the Pelicans. The mob screamed in an uproar and charged for the Pelicans, the blue plasma balls whooshed through the air and crashed into the street with thunderous explosions. Each explosion engulfed dozens of people, killing them instantly. Like somebody taking bites out of a sandwich, the energy balls crackled through the air and took large chunks out of the crowd with each explosion. Those who were unlucky enough to be around the edge of an explosion were tossed through the air like toys, covered in third and fourth degree burns, missing limbs, and breaking bones upon impact with the ground.

I sprinted for the Pelicans, with Mackenzie hot on my heels. A ball of energy hit the ground fifteen feet to my left, casting concrete and dirt into the air. I covered my face and felt the skin on the left side of my body prickle and blister. I staggered and dropped my carbine, the weapon skittering beneath the stampeding feet of the crowd. Anybody who fell was trampeled as the crowd surged forward.

We reached the Pelicans and ushered as many of the remaining people as we could into the Pelicans. Hundreds of blackened corpses were strewn around the pockmarked street, some of them still writhing and screaming in pain. The Pelicans were packed to their capacity, although there were significantly less people than there were before. Dozens of civilians and soldiers limped and staggered towards the Pelicans, only to be killed by the relentless salvo of deadly blue.

Rhodes ran towards Gallagher's Pelican at the far end of the row of birds, "Clarke, Mack, lets move! Gallagher's Pelican is ours."

Valdez ran behind Rhodes with the mentally broken O'Grady over his shoulders. Doc Chagny and Lieutenant Li helped a gravely wounded Commander Masters towards the Pelican, the right half of the officer's body was completely burned.

We ran towards the Pelican and jumped into the blood tray with Rhodes and Valdez pulling us in. O'Grady sat in the far corner of the bay, rocking himself back and forth and staring blankly at the floor.

"Thank God you boys made it in one piece," Rhodes shouted. I winced as he clapped my left shoulder and agitated the blisters.

The hellstorm of death still rained down from above, and the remaining survivors scrambled into the Pelicans. One of the Pelicans took off, flying above the remaining buildings and into the clouds.

"Gallagher! Wave off, get our asses out of here!" Lieutenant Li shouted. I stood closest to the bay door and watched a few of the crackling and sputtering balls of plasma stray behind the Pelicans and into my view from the bay door. I was about to take a seat, my heart still hammering out of my chest, when I saw three figures emerge from the kill zone.

It was Gunny Overholt.

She ushered the boy and his father that I had seen in the hallway earlier, who had been following the woman with the mass of bloody rags on the stretcher.

"Wait! Don't take off!" I shouted. I jumped out of the Pelican and bolted towards the trio. I heard several people protest from the bay of Gallagher's Pelican, but I paid them no attention. I dashed across the street and approached the trio of people emerging from the kill zone.

"Clarke, get these two to the Pelican," Gunny Overholt shouted, holding the man by his sleeve. The young boy stared up at me with intense hazel eyes, his grime-covered face showing a myriad of emotions.

"What about you?" I replied.

She looked back towards the entrance, "We have-"

"My wife, she's back there behind that car," the man cut in. He was obviously in a state of hysteria, as would any man in the case that his family was in danger. I know I would.

I looked behind them, through the energy artillery, and saw the wounded woman lying unconscious on a stretcher behind a sportscar. She would be shielded from blasts on the street, but if any of the explosions got any closer, then she would join the corpses carpeting the street.

The energy salvo grew in intensity, giving the two remaining Pelicans with troop deployment pods to take off. Overholt looked me in the eyes, a fierce and determined stare fixated on me. "Take them to the Pelican, Clarke, there is no time!"

I shook my head and shouted, "I'm coming with you, ma'am."

"Get to the Pelican now, Private. That's an order," the red-haired Gunnery Sergeant screamed at me.

The husband, a taller man with greying hair, grabbed Overholt's arm, "Im coming with you! She's my wife." Blue energy balls ripped up the street around us, we couldn't stay here any longer.

Gunny Overholt opened her mouth in protest but the man cut her off once more, "I'm not one of your soldiers."

Overholt looked between me and him and nodded, "Get this boy to the Pelican, Clarke." The father of the small, brown-haired, hazel-eyed boy kissed his boy on the head and ran off with Overholt. The little boy, no older than five, was caked in dirt and was in no better shape than I was.

"Daddy! Come back, daddy!" the little boy shouted. The explosions no longer phased him, as he shouted after his father and mother. I grabbed the boy from behind and ran towards the Pelican, the child kicking and hitting me as I ran towards the last Pelican with the toddler draped over my shoulder. A sharp spike of grief shot through my chest as I imagined Maddy being in the same position as this kid, and I hoped that things would never be the same for her. The amount of sadness that I felt for all of these suffering people could never be expressed in words.

I glanced back through the field of blue explosions and saw Gunny Overholt and the tall man narrowly avoid an explosion of energy and dive behind the sportscar where the wounded woman lay on the stretcher. My pace never hastened and I reached the open bay door of the Pelican and passed the boy up to Mackenzie. The boy struck him with his fists, "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Easy lad, I'm not going to hurt ya," Mackenzie said as calmly as possible. I turned towards the wall of explosions and managed to take a half-step before being jerked back towards the Pelican.

Lieutenant Li had a hold on my shoulders from behind and abruptly dragged me into the Pelican, "You're not going anywhere, Private!"

Gallagher looked back from the cockpit, "We have to leave now, sir! This LZ is way too hot and is getting alot hotter!" We all watched as Overholt and the boy's father carried the stretcher through the explosions, avoiding some very close blasts. We could hear the Gunnery Sergeant yelling over the COM, "Don't stop... we're almost there... incoming!... keep moving..."

The pair of them were more than halfway back to the Pelican when time seemed to slow down.

Overholt yelled something incomprehensible over the COM before a glob of blue plasma blasted away the asphalt, inches beside them. The stretcher was ripped away from them and the woman was sent spiraling down the street, bouncing and skidding along the pavement. Her husband was caught in a huge tongue of energy being emitted from the ball, and seemingly vanished into thin air. Gunnery Sergeant Overholt emitted a quick yelp over the COM as she twisted through the air, landing fifty feet away on the hood of a burned-out car. 2nd Platoon's second-in-command writhed on the wrecked vehicle, staring up into the sky.

"Overholt! Michelle, are you alright!" Li screamed over the COM. Lieutenant Li rarely showed much emotion, but he cared for every man and woman under his command. But we all saw how he got along with Gunny Overholt, and we suspected that there was something more than intense loyalty between them.

Gunny Overholt coughed over the COM, "Get out... of here."

"Lieutenant, we have to leave, NOW!" Gallagher shouted over the COM. Plasma artillery crashed all around us. We had to leave immediately.

Overholt sputtered and hacked, "Leave me... No more... heroes today."

Lieutenant Li looked at the crumpled body of Gunny Overholt. She had stopped moving. The Japanese officer pursed his lips and slammed his fist against the bay wall, "Get us out of here, Gallagher."

We all looked out the bay door, wide-eyed. The energy artillery blanketed the area, causing more than a few of the standing buildings to collapse. The streets were blackened and pitted with craters, and hundreds of unmistakable human corpses littered the ground. The damaged bay door closed with a creak, and we sat in the faint red glow of the bay lights. I seated myself silently beside Doc Chagny, who had stablized the heavily burned Commander Masters resting face-up on the floor. Nobody dared break the silence.

The hazel-eyed boy sat quietly beside me, staring at a holographic photograph of his parents. I put my hand on his shoulder in an effort to give him some comfort. I didn't know if he understood what had just happened to his parents, but being a parent myself, I didn't even know how to tell him.

As if he was reading my thoughts, the boy looked at me, "They're dead."

I opened my mouth to respond, but couldn't find the words. I shut my mouth and nodded solemnly, "I'm so sorry." The young boy looked back at the image resting between his hands and said nothing.

I took my hand away from his shoulder, "What's your name?"

The boy looked back at me, his hazel eyes fixated on me with laser-like focus, "Carter. My name is Carter."


	14. Chapter 14: Flesh and Blood

Chapter 14: Flesh and Blood

**1530 hours, May 25 2525, (Military Calendar)/**

**Planetary Exosphere, Biko**

"Hold on to your asses, boys, ten seconds until planetary exit," Gallagher said over the COM, the slightest hint of strain in her voice.

The damaged Pelican climbed through Biko's atmosphere at a quick and steady speed, the G-Force pushing me against the back of my seat. I shut my eyes and held on to the sides of my seat, the dropship rattling and creaking as the exterior pressure increased. The interior temperature jumped, not as much as it would have if we were entering the atmosphere, but enough to cause sweat to drip down my back. I squeezed my eyes shut and my ears popped. The mutual fear amongst us was that the Pelican was too damaged to withstand the crushing power of vacuum. I felt Carter squeeze my forearm tightly. Red bay lights flickered momentarily as we pushed out of the exosphere and into orbit around Biko.

Gallagher's voice relaxed, "Interior pressure stable, she'll hold, gentlemen." I realized that I had been holding my breath and exhaled, opening my eyes and leaning my head against the wall of the Pelican. The Pelican jolted and my relaxed body bucked forwards.

"What the fuck was that?" Valdez yelped.

Rhodes looked out one of the portholes, "Jesus fucking Christ… there must be an entire battlegroup out there!"

I spun around and looked into the star-speckled backdrop of outer space, and quickly shut my gaping mouth. I had never seen so many ships in combat! Dozens of our warships were engaged in battle with the purple, shark-like alien vessels. I watched intently as swarms of little purple and black dots flitted and fought amongst the larger ships, like shoals of fish swimming around whales. Every second I saw explosions amongst the crisscross of missiles, large-calibre bullets and alien energy. Debris clouded the view outside of the porthole, as dozens of warships, mostly ours, and fighter-craft floated aimlessly in the void. Our navy had the enemy ships incredibly outnumbered, but the battle was painfully in the aliens' favour. Carter sidled up beside me and watched the battle wide-eyed. Dogfighting craft would swoop past the porthole every once in a while, occasionally followed by one of the two combatants emerging victorious. Biko provided a green and blue mural to the awe inspiring battle. I could not pull my eyes away from the porthole.

I looked over at Carter, "Are you okay?" The hazel-eyed boy nodded. He was uncannily collected for a five year old; something that I thought would make him an incredible soldier someday. I didn't doubt that the boy would go on to fight for the UNSC. He managed to stay calm in situations where most people would have lost it, especially for a child who had probably just started his first year of school. I saw the fire in his hazel eyes, the intense hatred burning within his small body. I wondered if this war would last long enough for him to enlist.

Lieutenant Li unstrapped himself from his bucket seat and ducked into the cockpit, "Gallagher, hail the _Barcelona_. We need to get the Commander to the medical bay, ASAP."

Major Chagny and Mackenzie had lashed the badly burned Commander Masters' stretcher to the metal grate before we made our ascent, and now they were both on the bay floor administering the few remaining meds that they had.

The Office of Naval Intelligence officer trembled, the right half of his body covered in fourth-degree burns. The alien energy artillery had inflicted immense casualties on the survivors from the office building. I thought about all the wounded civilians and fellow service members that had still been alive when we had left them dying on the street. Most of all, I thought about Gunny Overholt. We were all numbed by her death, especially Lieutenant Li. The Japanese officer had been quiet and distraught for the duration of the flight, but kept himself composed in our presence.

"How is he?" I asked Doc Chagny regarding the condition of Commander Masters.

The French army doctor sighed and looked up at me from the floor, "He needs surgery, immediately."

Gallagher's voice crackled over the COM, "No contact from the _Barcelona_, sir."

Lieutenant Li's brow furrowed, "Try the backup channels."

"Nothing," responded Gallagher.

"_Merde_," Doc Chagny whispered, looking up towards the porthole. The _Barcelona_, a distinct frigate with her name stenciled on her flanks, rolled onto her starboard side and spewed flames and atmosphere into the vacuum, a gaping hole seared clean through her by an alien warship. The frigate twisted through the void towards Biko, a dead wreck amongst the raging battle.

"The _Barcelona_ is gone, Lieutenant!" I blurted, turning around in my seat and staring at Mackenzie. The _Barcelona_ had been our "home away from home" for years, and her crew had been our friends. Just like that, they were all gone. Nobody would hear them scream, their lives abruptly ending in the deathly silence of space. Lieutenant Li cursed in Japanese as the dropship rocked from a nearby explosion.

"We're sitting ducks out here, Lieutenant, we need to get landing clearance from a ship, _any ship_," Gallagher shouted back from the cockpit.

Doc Chagny spoke up, "Any ship will do right now, Lieutenant. The Commander will die if we don't get him into surgery soon." The dropship jolted and bounced as we soared through the battle. Carter brought his legs up to his chin and rocked himself back and forth in a similar fashion to O'Grady.

"Hail the closest ship, Gallagher, get us a landing clearance," the Lieutenant said curtly.

Gallagher spoke over the E-Band in a slightly panicked voice, attempting to get us out of the void and into a medical bay. After what seemed like an eternity, Gallagher called back from the cockpit, "We've got ourselves an open nest, gentlemen. The _Hopeful_ has been so kind to take us in." Every sane person in the bay cracked a smile as we took in this double whammy of goodness. Not only were we getting out of here, but we were heading to the _Hopeful_ as well.

The _Hopeful_ was a legendary ship amongst sailors and soldiers alike. The largest mobile battlefield hospital in history, the _Hopeful_ had survived countless encounters with the Insurrectionists due to a combination of skill and luck. Her medical crew were the best of the best, known for literally bringing the dead back to life. Commanded by the equally legendary Admiral Ysionris Jeromi, the medical station was, by far, the most beautiful thing that you could encounter in the UNSC Navy. I had been treated on the _Hopeful_ once before after getting shot in the legs on Cyrus IV, and it was the best two weeks of recovery I had ever experienced.

Gallagher twisted and turned the Pelican through the raging battle and approached the massive medical station. The _Hopeful _had virtually no defensive systems to speak of, although it had miraculously survived the Battle of Biko thus far. I was more than eager to get aboard.

I saw the _Hopeful _out the Pelican's porthole, and as we approached the giant medical station, an open airlock gave me a feeling of relief. Our dropship glided into the medical station and settled on the floor with a light jolt. The Pelican's bay door groaned open, the fluorescent hangar lighting greeting us with its depressing glow. We trudged out of the dropship, and medical technicians brought over a tram to carry the wounded Masters and the mentally unstable O'Grady to appropriate medical faculties.

Gallagher jumped out of the cockpit, stumbling as her boots hit the ground, "Goddamnit, that was one helluva ride."

"But that was some of the best flying I've ever seen," Major Chagny said in response.

The hangar was virtually empty, besides the medical staff hurriedly taking the Commander to surgery. As we filed out into the big, empty space, I recoiled in disbelief at what, or moreover, who I saw before me. None other than Private Gonzalo Santos was staring at me, a light smile on his face. He sat in a wheelchair, wearing a white t-shirt and olive drab fatigue pants common to all military medical patients.

"My God, Santos," Rhodes said shockingly, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Santos chuckled, "Think you could get rid of me that easily, boss?"

"So the big man himself managed to pull through," Valdez said, shaking his head in disbelief, "How'd you get out?"

Santos sighed, "They took me back to Romeo Hotel, but the place was sacked. The aliens just marched through there and slaughtered everybody. So many dead…" Santos began to trail off, staring at the floor for a moment. "We headed further north towards the core of the city where the main evac effort was going on. They had a pretty well fortified operation going on there, from what I heard the remnants of the Nineteenth Armoured managed to punch through east of the city, straight towards friendly lines. There were a shitload of tanks and AA batteries set up around the city hall plaza, but I don't think they lasted much longer after they brought me up here."

"How were the other divs' doing?" Lieutenant Li asked.

Santos shook his head, "The Ninety-Ninth MPs were managing the evac, but a lot of 'em were butchered in the west end of the city when they were trying to hold the line against alien shock troops. Apparently there were no survivors out there. And the Nineteenth Armored… Goddamn, they had a helluva time getting into Durban, let alone making it to friendlies."

"What about the Three Sixty Seventh Field Artillery? Or the rest of the Third Infantry?" I asked.

Santos shrugged, "I don't know, there were a lot of our boys down at city hall and the Three Sixty Seventh were running a decent show against enemy armor and air support. There weren't many guys down there to begin with, to be honest." We listened intently to Santos' recollection of his experiences, and listed off names of friends in the hopes that he knew of their fates. Most of the time, though, Santos either shrugged or shook his head in response.

Santos looked at all of us, "How bad was it down there? For you?"

Nobody said anything until Mackenzie spoke up, "It was absolute hell. Feck me sideways if I was the only one who wanted to break down and cry." I shamelessly agreed with him. All of us were combat veterans, but the Covenant was almost invincible. Sure, they _could_ be killed, but not before one of them killed three of us.

We followed Santos across the hangar and through the winding hallways of the _Hopeful_. The hallways were much more open than those of other UNSC ships, understandably so in order to manoeuver stretchers and gurneys towards the medical bays. Medical staff rushed through the corridors, although it was less busy than the other sections of the medical station, especially the various triage and surgical wings. We entered a long room that smelled of hospital sanitizer, where dozens of troopers from the 3rd Infantry Division lay on hospital beds sectioned off by semi-opaque plastic curtains, many of them hooked up to various medical machines. I greeted friends when I saw them lying in the beds – those that could respond, anyways. Santos led us to the bed at the end of the room. Santos rolled up to the bed.

"Colonel, sir," the demolition specialist said softly. Colonel Montgomery opened his eyes. Our CO was seriously wounded. He was hooked up to a portable ventilator, although his breath was slow and laboured. Half a dozen machines monitored his status, from heart rate to brain activity. Several intravenous tubes carrying a myriad of fluids were connected to his arms.

"What happened?" I asked a medical technician sporting a standard blue lab coat.

"He took a burst of those pink needles to the chest," she said, "and suffered the resulting explosion. I have no idea how he could have survived."

Colonel Montgomery looked at all of us and tried to sit up, "My God, it's good to see you boys," the British officer said in a hoarse voice.

Lieutenant Li rushed over to the side of the bed, "Woah, easy, sir. Don't get up for us."

The Colonel coughed, "Bloody aliens got lucky. I got lucky."

Lieutenant Li chuckled, "Gave 'em hell, did ya', sir?"

"Didn't you?" Montgomery said with a light smile.

Mackenzie cut in, "We sent 'em packin', sir."

The Colonel lay back in his bed and shut his eyes, "Good, good."

Lieutenant Li looked up at us, "Let's give him some rest, boys. We need some too." The Japanese officer looked at Mackenzie and Valdez, "You two get your injuries treated."

We were led by an overworked medical technician to the barracks, and were given an adequately-sized room whose only current occupant was Santos. Lieutenant Li was brought to the officer's quarters.

I claimed a bunk and took off my BDU top, laying the filthy, ripped piece of clothing on the end of my bunk. I sighed as I took my boots off for the first time in more than a week, my sore and blistered feet finally getting a chance to breathe. All of my personal effects were lost aboard the _Barcelona_, although the medical tech came back several minutes later with several packs of hygiene kits, skivvies, socks, pants, and t-shirts. We graciously accepted the new clothing. My socks had been torn to shreds, and my boxers were ripped, sweaty, and uncomfortable.

I walked over to the adjoining shower room and gingerly removed my dark green t-shirt, wincing as the movement stretched and pulled the plasma blisters on my body. I looked in the mirror and ran a hand over my shaved head. My face was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat from the several days of fighting. Blood was smeared here and there, some dried to a brown colour while some was a fresh red. My lip had been split, most likely during the crash en route to the football stadium. I stroked the short stubble before splashing cold, recycled water on my face. I washed my face and shaved before stepping into the shower. I was always amazed at how revitalized I felt after having the first shower after a campaign. I felt so much more refreshed, as if the hardships of combat were washed away along with the dirt and filth. I thought about home, about Jen and Maddy, and about the friends that I had lost on Biko. I wondered about the future, about the Covenant, and about life. It always astounded me at how fragile life was, how difficult it was to become this carbon-based life form and how easy it was for it all to disappear in the blink of an eye.

I pondered all these things in the shower, letting the cold water wash my troubles away. I felt the medical station jolt, signalling a shift in the direction of the station. We were moving somewhere, and we were moving quickly. I jumped out of the shower and quickly dressed, putting on a pair of fresh socks and the slippers that were provided to medical patients. Rhodes, who hadn't cleaned up yet, walked into our small barracks. He had a sullen, troubled look on his face.

"What's going on? Are we going back down there?" I asked hesitantly.

Rhodes shook his head, "No, we're pulling out of Biko."

I furrowed my brow, "Just us?"

Rhodes looked at me with a pained expression, "No, everybody. We lost Biko." Mackenzie and Valdez trudged into the room, throwing their weapons onto two empty bunks. They both had similar expressions on their faces.

Rhodes turned to them, but before he could speak, Mack said, "We know, Sarge. It's over. The aliens took the planet." Rhodes sighed heavily and sat down on his bunk, placing his MA5B in the footlocker at the end of the bed and his helmet on top.

Santos wheeled himself into the room, "I guess you guys heard, eh?" the Hispanic man said soberly.

I nodded, "Yeah. It's over."

Rhodes snorted. "No, Clarke. It's only the beginning," our squad leader said softly.

* * *

><p>That night, the nearly-annihilated Battlegroup Biko retreated from the cattle-farming world. Out of the 21,000 UNSC personnel stationed on Biko, only 9,450 made it off of the planet. 6,900 soldiers ultimately survived, as many of the wounded succumbed to the brutal injuries inflicted by the Covenant. The Battlegroup suffered heavy losses in spite of having the alien fleet outnumbered, losing a total of 19 ships, with the remaining 13 heavily damaged- 5 beyond repair. It is estimated that 65% of the population was successfully evacuated from Biko, the remaining 35% either killed, or left to the Covenant as the UNSC fled the fallen world.<p>

Among the dead were Gunnery Sergeant Michelle Overholt and Colonel Arthur Montgomery. The Colonel passed away due to lung failure caused by the exploding crystalline needles that had been lodged in his chest. The commanding officer of 6th Battalion died without the knowledge of the failed defense of Biko, although I didn't think he'd like to know that.

The swift crushing of our defenses on Biko was the UNSCs first ground engagement in what would be the greatest, bloodiest conflict in human history. But the Battle of Biko showed humanity that the Covenant was flesh and blood, as much as the opposite seemed true. Thousands of men and women fought and died for every inch of ground on Biko. We spilled our blood for the sake of humanity. We were lucky that we had survived, perhaps the luckiest people coming off of that godforsaken planet.

But as I slept that night, I wondered how long our luck would last.


	15. Chapter 15: Lazy Days

Chapter 15: Lazy Days

**1300 hours, October 19****th**** 2525, (Military Calendar)/**

**New Gostivar Training Camp, Skopje**

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" the burly range master bellowed. The line of recruits at the shooting range dressed in olive green BDUs stopped firing their MA5B assault rifles very haphazardly. The range master, red in the face, marched down the line and reamed out a recruit who hadn't followed the order.

It was a pleasant day at New Gostivar Training Camp, one of the hundreds of UNSC establishments on the Inner Colony of Skopje. The weather was average for the region, sunny but mild, and that suited me just fine. The planet was covered in mountains, boreal forests, and thousands of fjords, lakes and rivers. The colony was, however, very densely populated and heavily industrialized. It was not uncommon to see a city full of skyscrapers situated on the side of a mountain. There were large pockets of cites and metropolises, but in between is a vast expanse of wilderness.

New Gostivar Training Camp was situated deep within the Tsengel Mountains, near the city of Kavadarci. The camp, situated on a plateau surrounded by coniferous trees, was one of the army's primary training centers in the sector. A large complex of barracks, obstacle courses, armories, rifle ranges, and other assorted buildings, New Gostivar had the privilege of housing its own airfield, a rare commodity in the mountains of Skopje.

Valdez, O'Grady, Santos and I sat on ammunition crates near Firing Range 22B, watching the newest batch of recruits sloppily spray their rounds all over the place. FR22B, nicknamed "the Frisbee" by the troopers living in this quadrant of the camp, was a sunken sandpit surrounded by curving concrete walls, with only one section of the wall taken out to allow soldiers to access the range. It was very low-tech, but it was all you needed. The gravel road leading towards the range had several crates of ammunition and weapons stacked along the sides, giving us the perfect view of the practicing rookies.

The burly range master, a Chief Warrant Officer with a greying head of hair, lectured the recruits on proper rifle handling. I looked around at my comrades, all of us sporting nothing more than our mottled brown BDUs and our M6D Magnums at our waists.

"Hard to believe that was us once," Valdez commented, leaning against an ammunition crate beside me with his arms crossed.

Santos snorted from his seat to my right, "Maybe Mack should jump in there with 'em. Not like he can shoot any better." We all laughed. Mackenzie and Rhodes were off somewhere, doing something that none of us could really bother knowing.

I shaded my eyes from the afternoon sun and examined the recruits closely, "At least they're getting better."

Valdez pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, gave one to Santos, and lit one up. He took slow pulls from the cigarette and blew the smoke out the corner of his mouth.

"I wanna see them work with an Em-Ninety. Nothin' like good ol' shotgun diplomacy."

After the Battle of Biko, the _Hopeful_ had narrowly escaped destruction at the hands of the Covenant fleet. The battered remains of Battlegroup Biko fled the sector and ended up at Skopje. The surplus of army, air force, and navy crewmen were assigned to the various bases and training camps across the planet. Most, if not all, of the army divisions and air force wings deployed to Biko were decimated. The 3rd Infantry Division suffered a 90% casualty rate, the 99th Military Police were annihilated in the defense of Durban, and the 19th Armored Division had such a high casualty rate that the unit was completely dissolved.

The remnants of the 3rd Infantry were stationed at New Gostivar until HIGHCOM could reorganize the damaged units. We had attended a memorial ceremony on the camp parade square, where we could finally mourn and remember those who had been lost at Biko. A list of the dead and missing were read out. The list was excessively long, taking well over an hour to complete while we stood at attention. Medals were awarded, too. Sergeant First Class Hopefield was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for his actions that saved our lives at the high school. Gunnery Sergeant Overholt was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star for attempting to save the wounded mother during the evacuation of the office building. It seemed that everybody in Charlie Squad was given the same treatment. Mack, Valdez, Santos and I were promoted. Mack and Santos were both promoted to Specialist and Valdez and I became Corporals.

Corporal Clarke. It had a nice ring to it.

The down time we had had in the past couple months gave me a lot of time to think about my life. I hadn't been home in almost nine months. I frequently sent mail to Charybdis IX, and Jen sent me pictures of Maddy as often as she could. But it wasn't enough. The military was making me miss so much of Maddy's life, and that took a piece out of me. I loved my family more than I loved the friends around me. I know that I had to get out of the army one way or another, but now with the Covenant threat, I wasn't sure if that would be possible for a long time.

The recruits began firing their weapons once more under the watchful eye of the range master. They all lay on the gravel covered ground, filling the black silhouette targets downrange with holes. The range master squinted in the sun, nodded approvingly, and ordered the newcomers to safety their weapons and await the order to move downrange and check their targets.

I was in a very reflective mood these days. I had been stationed on several planets in my short four year military career, and I had seen my fair share of combat, but nothing was like Biko. The first time I felt like I was truly at war was during final offensive on Thern. Before that, it was just base duty and the occasional suppression of Insurrectionist uprisings. But Biko was the first time I experienced the numbing feeling of warfare. On Thern, you slept, tried to stay warm, fought more boredom than rebels, and tried not to die during Innie raids.

I truly _feared _the fighting on Biko. This new enemy, the Covenant, was beyond anything that anybody could have imagined. They were ruthless, they were cunning, and they were powerful. I frequently had nightmares about Biko. Every time I close my eyes I see the field of dead youth at the high school, or the dead boy in his mothers' arms. I see young Carter, no more than five years old, who was now an orphan due to the relentless massacre of his parents at the hands of the aliens. I could not imagine what the Covenant was doing with Biko now that it was in their hands.

In September, it was declared at a UEG-UNSC summit on Earth that humanity was at war with an alien conglomerate known as the Covenant. The summit's purpose was to discuss ways to resolve the conflict diplomatically, although many survivors from other planets that were attacked –both civilian and military- testified to the ruthlessness and murderous nature of the aliens. The summit was broadcast to ever single television set in human-controlled space. The UNSC announced the loss of several colonies to the Covenant, and stated that ground and naval operations were being conducted on several colonies to counter the alien offensive.

The only thing I couldn't get out of my head was the idea of the Covenant arriving on Charybdis IX. I was snapped out of my thoughts when Sergeant Aayu Singh walked over to our group.

"Fresh meat, huh?" Singh commented on the recruits, shuffling his feet in the gravel.

Sergeant Singh was the leader of Delta Squad in 4th Platoon, a tall Indian man with a very pleasant demeanor. The former Delta Squad leader was Sergeant First Class Kesterson, who had her body cut in half by one of the lizard alien swords on Biko. Singh was a good soldier and a generally fun-loving man, but nowadays he moped around the camp alone. I often talked to him, but he always had that sad look in his eyes. His entire platoon had been wiped out by the bug walker that had attacked us on Juravinski Boulevard and he blamed himself for their death.

O'Grady leaned back on a crate, "Yep."

"Not very interesting, is it?"

"What else is there to do?"

I looked over at O'Grady, his blonde hair slightly longer than regulation length, his arms folded over his chest. The kid had changed. He broke down on Biko, sure, but you can't judge him for that. If I had been thrown into something like that for my second combat deployment, I would have broken down too. Hell, I came close to breaking down on several occasions. But O'Grady was different somehow. We didn't call him rook anymore. He had been with Charlie Squad for more than a year, and had survived the fighting on Thern and Biko. He was no longer a by-the-books newbie, he was a combat veteran and a respected technician.

Santos puffed away at his cigarette, "Want a smoke, Sarge?"

"Sure," Singh responded with a nod.

"Valdez, give the good Sergeant a smoke," Santos said without taking his eyes off the recruits at the shooting range. Valdez shot a questioning look at the Hispanic demolition specialist.

"Offering people _my_ smokes, huh?" the muscular African-American muttered, pulling another cigarette out of the pack and handing it to Singh.

"Much obliged," Singh said, putting the cigarette in his mouth. The Sergeant patted the pockets of his BDUs.

"Anyone got a light?" Two other troopers strolled down the road to our group.

One of them was Corporal Samuel Katsubari, a very muscular Japanese man from 1st Platoon and a generally well liked individual. The other trooper, Private First Class Damian "Damsel" Marques, stood beside him. The young Portuguese kid was an outgoing trooper from 1st Platoon, but the fighting on Biko had extinguished a lot of the flame inside of him. He came in as a replacement before we left for Biko, but he was very joyful and brought smiles to a lot of our faces with his jokes and antics. Like everyone else, though, he wasn't the same these days.

"Got a lighter?" Singh asked, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Katsubari pulled one out of his pants pocket and tossed it to the Sergeant.

Katsubari stood beside Valdez, "What are you boys up to?"

I nodded at the line of recruits who were now packing up their gear and getting ready to move on to the next part of their training day, "Watching these kids make a friggin' mess of the range."

"Why dontcha' go teach 'em a thing or two about accuracy since you're being so critical, Clarke?" Valdez said with a smirk.

"Ha! Says the guy who has to use an Em-Ninety because he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a rifle in basic," I retorted. Everyone chuckled.

"Hey man, it's an art! Let's see you use one next time," Valdez blurted defensively.

Santos shoved the butt of his cigarette into the gravel, "You still suck at shooting either way, dude." Valdez kicked Santos in the back of the head, who then threw a handful of pebbles at Valdez.

We were all laughing at the two go at it when we heard the crunch of tires on the gravel road. Valdez and Santos stood up from their scuffle as a transport Warthog pulled up alongside our cluster of ammunition crates. A Corporal in a neat dress uniform jumped out of the drivers' seat and walked around to our side of the 'Hog.

"Are you guys from A-Six-Three?" the Corporal asked hesitantly, eyeing the 3rd Infantry Division patches on our all of our shoulders. Units were identified by the simple Company/Battalion/Division outline. We were part of A/6/3, for Alpha Company, 6th Battalion, 3rd Infantry. The survivors of the Battle of Biko were held in high regard at New Gostivar Training Camp, to the point where we were all avoided. Base staff members would hurry past us as soon as they saw our unit patch, the red three in the blue diamond, embroidered by gold ivy. They feared us out of respect, and the recruits held us in a near-mythological status. Nobody could understand how we had fought the Covenant, let alone survive.

"Yeah, why?" I responded.

The Corporal handed me a datapad, "Thumb scan." I pressed my thumb on the screen, which promptly pulsed blue. A text file appeared on the screen. Everybody crowded around me to get a look at the screen.

"To all soldiers and personnel of the Third Infantry Division," Damsel began to read over my shoulder, "Under order of General Gustav Yefimov, you are to be…" Damsel stopped reading and shook his head.

"We're being reassigned," I uttered shockingly. Everybody in the group looked at each other with confusion.

"First Army Expeditionary Force, Tenth Infantry," the Corporal stated flatly, taking the datapad away and tucking it into one of his pockets. "Not enough troopers to restore the Third Infantry to fighting strength. HIGHCOM decided to fold you guys into another unit."

Singh lit up another cigarette, "Where are they stationed?" The Corporal began walking back to the Warthog.

"Up in the Veles region, I think. They're getting ready to deploy," the Corporal said over his shoulder, clambering into the 'Hog. The past couple months had been leisurely, but none of us were prepared to be thrown back into the meatgrinder again after what happened on Biko. A heavy feeling of dread overcame me as I thought about the reassignment to a unit that was about to deploy to God-knows-where.

"Do you know where?" O'Grady said darkly.

The Corporal looked at us from the driver's seat. He looked like he was annoyed, but I knew that it was empathy. I didn't understand the look, but one tight-lipped word explained it all.

"Harvest."

My heart lept into my throat. First contact with the Covenant occurred on Harvest. The planet had been razed by the aliens. I realized that what had occurred on Biko had most definitely occurred on Harvest, where the farming colony had little more than local militia to defend it. I gingerly sat down on an ammunition crate as my friends ambled about in shock.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Santos muttered.

The Corporal shook his head in pity before driving off, "Good luck."

We sat in stunned silence for several minutes before Katsubari spoke up, "So what does this mean? Are we going into combat?"

"No shit. You saw what happened on Biko, damn Covenant bastards are all over the place on Harvest," Damsel said bitterly.

"Tenth Infantry, huh?" Valdez said solemnly, unscrewing the cap on a small metal flask filled with whiskey, "Cheers to the Third." He took a swig before passing the liquor around the group. Our unit identity was gone. He had been assimilated into some collective unit of lost soldiers and rookies. I had a sunken feeling in my gut, telling me that I wouldn't be getting home anytime soon. The whiskey was soon in my hands. I wasn't much of a drinker, but this occasion called for it.

I raised the flask to my comrades, "To the Third, to us, and to the hell that awaits."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I still cannot believe the reception of Why We Fight. I'm truly happy that so many people enjoy reading my work. With that being said, I'd really like to hear from you on what you like and don't like in the story, and things that you would like to see from Clarke, Mack, Rhodes, Lieutenant Li, or any other character or story element in Why We Fight. I take everything to heart and I am always looking for new ways to improve the story and my writing overall. _

_Cheers, _

_- Phantogram_


	16. Chapter 16: Number Three

Chapter 16: Number Three

**1300 hours, March 30****th**** 2526, (Military Calendar)/**

**Mimir River, Harvest**

We had been on Harvest for a few hours and we were already miserable.

I repeatedly slammed my entrenching tool into the hard snow as the wind bit through my balaclava. I worked with the rest of our new company, D Company, to create a new part of the Utgard trench system on Harvest. We dug along the top of the bank of the Mimir River located on far eastern outskirts of the planets' capital, Utgard.

What _was_ the Mimir River, I corrected myself.

Harvest had been destroyed by the Covenant last year, causing most of the former agricultural world to plunge into a nuclear winter. The temperatures were below freezing, although it was nothing compared to Thern. I had dealt with worse, so I wasn't really complaining as much as the rookies. The Mimir River was nothing more than a large ravine now, the water disappearing long ago. Virtually nothing remained on the surface of Harvest. The sky was dark, the weather was cold and snowy, and the day was bleak and depressing. I looked off into the distance and could only make out the ruins of Utgard and a few mountain ranges in the far distance. The rest was rugged, snowy terrain, interlaced with a spiderweb of zigzagging trenches surrounding Utgard.

I rolled my shoulders to relieve some of the ache from the ballistic armor covering our winterized fatigues. Every army trooper wore basically the same thing in combat: fatigues covered with a ballistic armor vest that covered the chest, back, and groin, ballistic shoulder pauldrons, and our standard-issue helmets. Furthermore, we all wore a utility pack around our waist that carried various items such as rations, spare ammo, tools, navigational equipment, lighters, basic medical supplies… you name it, we probably have it on us. And that was just the basics. We carried a lot of gear that sometimes made movement difficult. It was a relief that our BDUs were now fairly insulated compared to our uniforms on Thern, which made movement a lot easier. We were still freezing, but at least we didn't have to worry much about dying from the cold.

"Only another foot or so," Katsubari grunted, throwing a shovelful of snow over the top of the trench. Trenches were meant to be about twelve feet deep at the most, giving us maximum protection from enemy artillery and small arms fire. We dug firing steps on the side of the trench facing out eastwards, so that we could see over the top of the trench and were able to return fire. Wooden and metal panels were usually scavenged or crafted in the field and brought into the trenches to secure along the walls of the trench to ensure that the earth and snow would not fall inwards. Troopers were already bringing panels up from the rear trenches for this reason.

I glanced at the other members of Charlie Squad as we continued to dig the trench. We had all managed to stay together when the 3rd Infantry Division was folded into the 1st Army Expeditionary Force. We were now members of the 1st Platoon, Delta Company, 2nd Battalion, 10th Infantry Division, or D/2/10 for short. Kastubari, Damsel, and Singh had joined Charlie Squad upon request of Lieutenant Li, who was the new CO of 1st Platoon.

"How you holdin' up there, Mack?" I asked my best friend. The Scotsman strained as he lobbed a shovelful of snow over the top of the trench.

"Never better."

Rhodes looked over at Mack, covering his face as a sudden gust of wind blew snow down into the trench, "Good to hear, mind digging for me?"

Mack shook his head, "You're funny, Staff."

It was this kind of humor that kept us going during times when morale was at its lowest. The cold never helped anything in warfare, including our spirits. I considered these men to be the closest thing I had to brothers, and poking fun at each other was our way of coping with the situation.

Two young troopers clad in our mottled grey and white BDUs approached our squad, carrying the planks of wood that were to be laid on the bottom of the trench to provide secure footing. They laughed loudly and dropped their boards near our feet. Santos and Singh glared at the pair before returning to their digging.

"Hey guys, special delivery for Charlie Squad!" one of the young men said enthusiastically before unfolding the e-tool from his waist and joining us in our efforts.

When we transferred to the 10th Infantry, our squad surprisingly remained Charlie Squad. I don't know if it was luck or fate, but we stayed as Charlie Squad. In addition to Singh, Damsel and Katsubari, two brand new recruits joined our squad on Skopje.

Private First Class Jonathan Carver was a sandy-haired, pimple-faced kid from Earth who had enlisted right out of highschool. He was enthusiastic beyond tolerance. He always bragged that as soon as the Covenant came, he was going to take his magnum in one hand and his knife in the other and charge their lines. His cockiness annoyed us to the point where we disliked him. He always had this shit-eating grin on his face that made you want to punch him out. He was the one who had given us the overzealous greeting with the duckboards.

The next newcomer was Private First Class Cole Weir, also an enthusiastic kid, but unlike Carver, he knew where to draw the line. He sported short black hair and thick-rimmed glasses, and was a born intellect. He never really got on our nerves like Carver did, so I didn't really mind his company. He was quiet and obedient when Carver wasn't around, making him an acceptable guy.

When we were in the Veles region on Skopje, preparing to embark to Harvest, we received several days of briefings on the Covenant soldiers and tactics. Nicknames had been bestowed on the various types of aliens and vehicles in the Covenant arsenal. The small frog-aliens were called "Grunts", due to the fact that they were the most numerous of the aliens and seemed to be at the bottom of the respect ladder. The lizard/bird aliens were called "Jackals", probably because they always appeared in groups. The next up the line were the big lizards, rightfully called "Elites" because of their fighting prowess. On Biko I witnessed them slaughter dozens of troopers and civilians. They were incredibly hard to kill and were the Covenant field commanders. There were also aliens that I had only seen in pictures: the ape-like Brutes and these weird bugs called Drones. Vehicles were also given names: the fast-attack vehicles were called Ghosts, the big tanks were Wraiths, the purple flyers – Banshees. Everything was given a name that suited it perfectly.

After the days of briefing in Veles, we were organized into our companies, platoons, and squads before shipping out to Reach, where we awaited several months for the order to deploy to Harvest. The majority of the troopers in the division were fresh out of basic, so us veterans were peeved by their gung-ho attitudes towards warfare. We spent our time preparing for the fight on Harvest and teaching the rookies whatever they didn't teach them in basic.

On Reach we had heard that the legendary Admiral Preston Cole had assembled a battlegroup to retake Harvest. Suffering a loss of 13 ships, the planet was retaken and we were given the green light to deploy to the "ag-world" and occupy the surface. I had this feeling that although we were occupying the planet until further UEG/UNSC intervention, something was going to go wrong. I _knew _that we wouldn't be digging trenches for nothing, and that HIGHCOM expected the aliens to return in force.

The next few hours were spent completing our front line trench, as well as digging several communication trenches connecting our front line trench and the support trench running parallel to ours. Digging firing steps, firing bays, dugouts, latrines, laying down sandbags, bringing up supplies and ammunition, putting up wall panels and setting up machine gun nests were just a few of the many duties that kept us occupied well into the night of our first day on Harvest.

The night was bitter and windy. We had dug ourselves several indents in the walls of the trench to shield us from some of the biting wind. It didn't snow on Harvest, there was already several feet of it that covered the scorched earth, it was merely blown around by the insanely strong winds. Being inside a deep trench protected us from the east-west winds, the squalls changed so suddenly and dramatically that it just blasted us in a north-south or south-north direction. The indents allowed us to stay close to the ground in an enclosed space, conserving warmth. These indents ran along the length of the trench, and the faint illumination of cigarettes, datapads, and other portable lighting filled the trench with an eerie glow. We appropriately called them 'caves'.

"I'm surprised ya' still don't smoke, Clarke," Mackenzie said quietly from his spot beside me, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Each person shared their little cave with a buddy, so that you could be with somebody in case of an attack. Moreover, the heat from your bodies and your individual thermal blankets kept each other warm.

I pulled my thermal blanket around me and leaned against the side of the indent, "One less person to hand smokes out to."

I never had the urge to smoke. Everybody claimed that it calmed them down, but it just didn't occur to me. Even O'Grady was beginning to get into it, although not nearly as much as the other guys in the squad.

Mack chuckled, "I'm tellin' ya', sooner or later you're gonna' start smokin' like a chimney."

"That'll be the day," I said wearily. Katsubari and Singh shared a cave across the six foot width of the trench. I listened to them argue about which Earth metropolis was better, Toronto or Paris.

"I'm tellin' you, Paris is way better. More history there," Singh said with his head leaning against the back of the cave.

Katsubari was loading bullets into magnum magazines with his blanket around his shoulders, "No way man, Toronto is where it's at. Can't get any more cosmopolitan than the big Tee-Oh."

"Paris has better booze."

"Toronto has better women."

An NCO made his way down to the bickering men's cave, "You boys alright?"

Katsubari responded without looking up at the NCO, "Fine, sir."

"What city do you think is better, sir? Toronto or Paris?" Singh asked the man. The NCO pulled his balaclava higher up onto his face before responding.

"Toronto. Better women."

Katsubari snickered, "What did I say? Hey, Clarke? Didn't I say Toronto was better?"

I looked over at my Japanese comrade and shrugged with a smile, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Katsubari glared at me briefly before shaking his head, "Fuck you, man." Mack, Singh, and the NCO laughed. The NCO told us to hunker down for the night and try to stay warm before he went on his way down the line. We chatted quietly amongst each other for the better part of an hour before Mack brought something up that made me think.

"This is our Number Three," the Scottish medic said solemnly.

"I know," I responded softly.

"Are ya' scared?"

"I don't know."

Mack snorted, "I think I am."

"Don't be."

I thought about what would happen in the next couple weeks. There was a military superstition, albeit one that was very much alive today, that your third campaign was the make-or-break point. The consensus was that by the time you were on your third campaign, your luck was running thin. I could have sworn that I had seen more veterans than rookies get killed on Biko, because that was their third campaign. Maybe it was my mindset and it made me see more veterans, friends, die more because I actually noticed. They came through their first campaigns unscathed, watched as they came incredibly close with death on Thern, while they struggled to stay alive on Biko, and ultimately met their fate at the hands of the Covenant. Although, Biko wasn't really a good assessment of that superstition, to put it flatly. There is a saying, "Survive your Number Three, then you're home free". If you made it through your third campaign, then you were basically good to go. Sure, people still died, but the superstition was "lifted" in a sense.

Harvest was _my_ Number Three. I don't really want to say that I was scared, I just hoped that the superstition wasn't true.

I brought my legs up to my chest and nestled myself in my thermal blanket. I had been issued an M6J Carbine upon reaching New Gostivar Training Camp after my MA5B had been destroyed by that white-armored Elite and my replacement M6J had been lost on Biko. I liked the feel and accuracy of the weapon compared to the standard issue assault rifle, so I wasn't complaining.

I rested the carbine beside me and shut my eyes. The wind howled through the dark trenches, penetrated only by the whine of Pelicans passing overhead and the crunch of men continuing to dig through the hard snow and earth.

* * *

><p>"Clarke, get up."<p>

I stirred underneath my blanket.

"Hey, Clarke, wake up."

I opened my left eye slightly, "What?"

"It's your guys' watch," whispered the voice. Rhodes was crouched in the darkness of the trench outside of our cave, O'Grady standing behind him with his arms crossed tightly.

I rubbed my bleary eyes and blinked at our squad leader, "What time is it?"

"Two in the morning."

I grumbled and put on my helmet, ripping the blanket off of me and adjusting the fastenings on my chest plating. Mack was snoring beside me.

I shook his shoulder, "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, we're on sentry." Mack rolled over.

"Who's Sleepin' Beauty?" he said groggily.

I rolled my eyes, "Get up, will ya?" The Scottish medic got himself ready before we emerged from the relative warmth of our indent into the cold darkness of the trench. Rhodes gave Mack a cigarette, which he graciously accepted.

"What's the dope?" I asked quietly. Dope was slang for news.

Rhodes puffed on his cigarette, "Nothing, really. Eighth Marines are digging in down the line to our left, and the Thirtieth Marines are extending the line on our right."

"That's it?" Mack said wide-eyed.

Rhodes shook his head, "The brass has loads of guys all over this region - more Marines around Utgard than there were on all of Biko."

I let out a low whistle, "How many in total on the surface?"

"Hundreds of thousands. Millions even, by now," O'Grady answered quietly. "Didn't you listen to the briefing?"

I nodded, "Yeah, but I didn't believe it."

We stood around and talked for a few minutes before Mack and I picked up our weapons and headed down the frontline trench, nodding to people that we knew as we passed by in silence. It was quiet, and that wouldn't change come daybreak. The trenches extended for miles around Utgard, and probably connected to other trench systems in the region, too. I had never been engaged in trench warfare, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

"Makes fightin' Innies seem like tea time in London, huh?" Mack mumbled quietly.

I snorted, "Sure does."

We walked along for a few minutes before we reached one of the many machine gun pits situated in a large firebay, surrounded by sandbags. A battery-powered lantern sat in the middle of the pit, where two of our buddies sat watching over the tops of the trench into the vast darkness of the Mimir riverbed.

"How's it lookin'?" I asked one of the .50 calibre machine gunners as we approached from behind.

"It could use a little landscaping," said Corporal Jean-Guy Vallincourt, a wiry French-Canadian with dark hair and a dark chinstrap beard. He had been in the army longer than we had been, and had been a machine gunner with 1st Platoon in the 3rd Infantry Division. "You boys on watch?"

"Aye," Mackenzie said, gazing out across the dried up Mimir River. The river was four hundred metres across, and about 50 metres at its point. The opposite bank crested into a little ridge, so that whoever, or whatever, came our way would never know that there was a trench here until the bullets started flying.

"How are ya', Santi?" I asked Vallincourt's spotter and loader, Private First Class Santiago Tejada, a slim Colombian kid from Madrigal and another army veteran.

"Just dandy, Clarke," Tejada said, scanning the river with a pair of binoculars. Mack and I sat down on the .50 cal crates in the firebay.

Vallincourt unwrapped an energy bar and looked around the firebay, "How long do you think we will be here for?"

I shrugged, "Not long, I hope."

"Do you think they'll come?"

"Probably."

Mack leaned against the wall of the firebay, "Who? The aliens?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, Mack, the dinosaurs."

"At least we're ready this time. And we've got numbers. And we're on defense this time," Tejada said without taking his eyes off the river. Mack crawled over beside him, leaving me and Vallincourt alone.

"We won't let this be another Biko," Vallincourt said coldly. "Isn't this your Number Three?"

I nodded.

Vallincourt shook his head, "God help you."

I leaned over and stared at the French-Canadian man, "You don't believe that shit, do you?"

"Never said I did."

"Then why do you we're gonna' die? Why do you think I need help?"

"We all do, Clarke. Three is just a number."

I pursed my lips and leaned against the wall of trench, "Maddy turns six today."

Vallincourt chewed on his lip and nodded, "My boy turned four a couple days ago." He put his hand on my shoulder, "Remember that you're not in this alone, Clarke. You're not the only one who has a family."

I nodded, "Where is your boy now? Montreal, right?"

Vallincourt pulled a cigar out of a metal case and put it in his mouth, covering the flame of his Zippo lighter with one hand before flicking the lid shut, "No, we moved a couple years ago."

I nodded, "Ah, where to?" Vallincourt examined his cigar intently, turning it in his hand before putting it in his mouth and staring towards the support line.

"Biko."

Words failed to come out of my mouth. I never knew that a friend of mine, especially a buddy like Vallincourt, had lost his family to the Covenant. It was my greatest nightmare and my friend had lived that nightmare, and relived it every time it was mentioned.

"I'm so sorry," I managed to utter quietly.

Vallincourt stared ahead, "Yeah… me too."

We sat around in the inkiness of the early morning, talking about our families and our lives before the army. It was one of the most humbling and memorable moments of my stay on Harvest. To Vallincourt, the army was all he had. If Biko was anything like Harvest now, then he had nothing to go home to. No possessions, no house, no family. It broke my heart just hearing him talk about it.

I could've sworn that Vallincourt was crying.

After we left the MG firebay, Mack and I took our time getting back to our cave. I was thinking a lot, and Mackenzie was just trying to stay warm. We woke Carver and Weir for their watch before we retreated to the warmth of our blankets.

I sat awake in our cave, the only thing in my head was the thought of the war going to Charybdis. Or even worse, the Covenant arriving when I wasn't there. Or worse yet, dying and being able to do nothing to protect them any further. Anxiety overcame me as I began to fear death, something that I had thought I had overcame a long time ago.

I tried praying for the first time. I asked God to make my third campaign successful, and that I could go home and see my family when it was all done. I prayed that none of my friends, my brothers, would die, and that they could go home, too. Most of all, I prayed that the campaign would be short and swift.

My prayer didn't work.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_Get ready for the Harvest Campaign!_

_I'm looking for somebody who wouldn't mind proofreading chapters before I release them. I find it very helpful to have a second set of eyes look over the chapter to spot any canonical or gramatical errors I may have missed, as well as give some feedback on the chapter beforehand. If you're interested, send me a message!_

_Don't forget to review!_

_Cheers,_

_- Phantogram_


	17. Chapter 17: Kitchens and Covenant

Chapter 17: Kitchens and Covenant

**1100 hours, April 15****th**** 2526, (Military Calendar)/  
><strong>**Mimir River, Harvest**

The first two weeks on Harvest were some of the most boring weeks of my life.

After five days on the quiet frontline, we were rotated back to the reserve trenches of what was now being called the "Mimir Line", the UNSCs twenty mile frontline to the east of Utgard. The entire defensive system around Utgard totalled several thousand miles of trenches constructed like a very messy spiderweb.

When we left the frontline and arrived a short distance away in the reserve trenches, we were delighted to find out that we had a dugout to ourselves. The walls and the floor or the underground room were metal-panelled, and had decent illumination by two battery powered lanterns hanging from the low ceiling. The icing on the cake, however, was the cots. There were enough of the flimsy metal cots for each person in the squad, plus one extra. We rarely slept off the ground on Biko, and in the trenches the ground was your bed. We were beyond ecstatic to be able to sleep on cots for the time being. Many soldiers in the reserve trenches had to sleep in the small two occupant dugouts, or "caves", that we had been sleeping in on the frontline. Carver and Weir were a little confused by our excitement, however they too appreciated sleeping above the cold ground.

Much to our relief, the Covenant hadn't appeared. Our initial sleepless, tense days and nights on Harvest turned into a relatively lax and carefree deployment. Aside from the cold and the trench life, it was comparable to base duty. Add on our current rotation to the reserve trenches, we couldn't be happier.

Well, most of us couldn't be happier.

Mack, Valdez, Santos, Damsel, and I sat on small folding camping stools around an empty ammo crate in the middle of the dugout, playing cards and eating some hot chow we had gotten from a field kitchen set up in a marine dugout a little distance down the trench. D Company's field kitchen lost its heat source when a careless trooper accidently discharged his weapon inside the dugout, leaving us without hot food until the heating got fixed. The marines did not appreciate having us "dogfaces" in their mess, but they were a little more receptive when they found out that we were Biko veterans.

"Yaknow, I could get used to this. Give me another week or two and I won't even realize we're in a nuclear winter," Santos said, staring at his cards, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

Damsel nodded, lighting up a cigarette, "I sure ain't complaining. I hope command keeps us here for a while." Santos grunted in agreement, slapping a card down on the crate.

"I fold," I said, tossing my hand down onto the crate.

Mack peered at my cards on the table, "Ya' really have shite luck in this game, don't ya' Clarke?"

I shrugged, getting up from my seat and stretching my back, "My luck us almost as bad as your aim, Mack." The Scottish medic shook his head while the others barked with laughter. Mack's accuracy with a weapon was a common point of teasing in Charlie Squad, and we frequently made jokes at his expense.

"Cheeky bastard."

We spent the next half hour lounging around our dugout, talking, eating, and playing cards. These simple activities amongst comrades were the things that broke the monotony of the day-to-day life in the trenches during the first few weeks on Harvest. Occasionally, the alarm would be sounded and we would rush to the firing steps and machine gun emplacements in the trenches, tensely waiting for the alien silhouettes to crest the far bank of the Mimir. We would then be told to stand down – a false alarm.

Our two replacements had been in the dugout with us the whole time. Weir was lying on his cot reading a book, while Carver meticulously disassembled his assault rifle, cleaned every piece, and put it back together. It kept them quiet, which was a very welcome pleasantry. Eventually I heard the sound of the bolt of a weapon being racked back and the safety clicking on. It was only a matter of time before Carver would begin his near-ritualistic whining.

"Do you think the aliens will come? Isn't that why they put us here?" Carver grumbled after a few minutes, boot tapping impatiently on the metal floor paneling. We all groaned softly, knowing of what was to come.

Valdez glanced up from his cards and sighed, "You want to get your ass shot up that bad, kid? I'll do it for you."

Carver's eyes narrowed, "I'll be the one shooting up their asses."

"Good luck with that," Valdez said with a snort, slapping a card down on the ammo crate. I turned around on my stool and stared at Carver.

"Why do you want to fight so badly, anyways?"

Carver shrugged, "Because. I joined so I could fight… anything, really."

I leaned on my knees and folded my hands in-between my legs, "You don't look like the fighting type to me."

"I could kill just as many aliens as you could! Just because you were on Biko doesn't mean you're a better fighter than me," Carver snapped, glaring at me with disdain.

Mack threw his cards down and looked at Carver with disgust, "Are you feckin' kiddin' me? Are you _feckin'_ kiddin' me? Of course it means he's a betta' fighter than ya'. If _you_ were on Biko ya' woulda' been killed faster than ya' can blink."

Carver stood up from his cot, "Let me at 'em! I'll show you! We are doing nothing sitting back here with our thumbs up our asses, waiting for the Covenant to come knocking on our door. We should be off this blasted rock and taking the fight to _them._"

Mack growled something incomprehensible and took a step towards Carver when Rhodes walked into the room, followed by O'Grady, Katsubari, and Singh. Each man carried a box of MREs (Meal, Ready to Eat) that would have to sustain us until our kitchen facility was up and running. The packaged meals were vacuum sealed to last for months, even years. They came with several food items, including two wet foods in pouches that could be heated to make them taste better. Unless we started a fire out in the trenches when the officers weren't looking, we would have to eat them cold. I sighed, I was never a fan of MREs, but they were edible and that's all that mattered to me.

"Who ordered takeout?" I said with a raised eyebrow, turning away from Carver and pushing the pestering replacement out of my mind. The three men stacked the boxes in the back left corner of the dugout.

"They still haven't gotten the kitchen fixed, so we're going to have to make do for now," Rhodes said. He looked at our empty mess tins lying around the ammo crate in the middle of the room and furrowed his brow, "You guys weren't jacking food from the Eighth Marines, were ya?"

Damsel shrugged, scrapping the last bit of food out of the bottom of his mess tin, "Jarheads were being generous for once." Rhodes simply shook his head and laughed.

"What's the hot dope, Staff?" Santos asked.

Rhodes sat down on the end of a cot, "Same shit, different day."

"You love saying that, don't you Sarge?" O'Grady said, throwing his helmet and assault rifle onto the end of his cot and pulling up a stool to the makeshift card table.

"I can say whatever I want, O'Grady," Rhodes said with a grin.

Katsubari leaned over Damsel's shoulder and glanced at the Portuguese trooper's cards, "How's being the platoon sergeant, Staff?"

Our platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Jennings, had come down with a bad case of pneumonia. Lieutenant Li had Rhodes fill the position while Jennings recovered. When Rhodes was off doing things for Lieutenant Li, Singh was in charge of Charlie Squad. I respected Singh as a leader, although I sometimes worried that he might make a poor choice in combat after what had happened to his squad on Biko.

Singh lit up a cigarette, "Enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame, Staff."

We talked for a few minutes, enjoying being out of the cold and amongst friends, when Lieutenant Li appeared at the sloped entrance of our dugout.

"Attention!" Carver yelped, standing up ramrod straight. Weir shot up out of his bed, while the rest of us staggered up from our various positions of comfort.

"At ease," our platoon leader mumbled, tapping on a tacpad as he walked into our quarters. We returned to our places of rest, looking up at the Lieutenant like schoolchildren staring at their teacher.

Rhodes put his hands on his hips, "What can we do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Captain Solomon wants a few men to head down to the battalion CP and ask for a replacement part for the kitchen," Lieutenant Li told Rhodes.

Captain Solomon was the despised commander of Delta Company. For starters, he was arrogant. He took no advice from his seasoned Lieutenants and NCOs, believing that what he learned in OCS on Luna was better than the opinions of combat veterans. Then he was inexperienced, having worked a desk job at HIGHCOM until he asked for a transfer to a combat unit. Finally, he was aloof. He cared not for the daily routines of his company, rather he wandered around the trenches, staring blankly at the horizon or the floor paneling. If someone asked him something, he almost always said yes without a second thought. It was simply a poor mix of characteristics that would spell certain disaster in combat.

"About time. Who'd you have in mind?" Rhodes asked with a raised eyebrow.

Li tucked his tacpad into his back pocket and shrugged, "You're platoon sergeant, Rhodes. That's up to you."

Rhodes looked around the room. His eyes fell on the people he chose.

"Clarke, O'Grady Carver, Weir. Get to it," he said with a jerk of his thumb towards the exit. O'Grady and I looked at each other and groaned. The last thing we wanted was to be stuck on some meager work detail with Carver and Weir. The 2nd Battalion command post was a five minute walk from here. Being the highest rank amongst the four of us, I would have to try to keep Carver and Weir from doing something stupid. I dreaded the thought.

We put on our helmets and slung our weapons over our shoulders and exited the dugout into the biting cold. The snow drifts had grown taller around the tops of the trenches, making me feel like they would fall down on top of me.

"Kinda' reminds you of Thern, eh?" O'Grady said, folding his arms across his chest as we made our way to battalion CP. Weir and Carver fell in behind us.

I nodded, "Except we've got food, warm blankets, and we aren't getting shelled every morning."

We worked our way through the network of trenches, nodding at passing buddies from other platoons and companies. Eventually, we had to cut through a portion of the frontline under 3rd Platoon's control. I glanced out across the vast Mimir riverbed, wondering if the Covenant were actually supposed to be here. After all, they destroyed the planet, what else could they want?

"You see that?" Carver said to Weir, gesturing towards the far side of the Mimir, "That's gonna be the only thing standing between me and the Covenant. Bastards aren't gonna' know what hit 'em."

O'Grady and I grumbled as Carver continued, "I'm going to keep track of all my kills. It's gonna' be in the hundreds I bet."

Weir grunted, "I don't know about _hundreds_, Carver."

Carver barked with laughter, "You're right, it's gonna' be thousands!"

O'Grady spun around and grabbed each side of Carver's chestplate and shoved him up against the side of the trench.

"You think this is some kind of game, huh? You think that this is anything like the shooting range? I'm tired of your bullshit, private, and so are the rest of us," O'Grady growled through gritted teeth, nose to nose with a startled Carver. "This is gonna' be the best part of this deployment, and you better fuckin' pray that the Covenant don't show up. Cause' if they do, _a lot _of people are going to get killed, and with _your _attitude," O'Grady spat with a gloved forefinger jabbed into Carver's chestplate, "_You _are gonna' get killed. So shut the fuck up, that's an order."

I stood in stunned silence, watching O'Grady ream out Carver. Frankly, I was happy that someone had spoken up, but I would never have thought that O'Grady would have said it so viciously, let alone do it at all. O'Grady let go of Carver, who was staring at the tech specialist with his mouth slightly agape. Weir looked shocked, while I looked on in quiet satisfaction. O'Grady folded his arms across his chest, looked at me, and continued walking along the frontline. Nearby troopers looked at us with a look of curiosity and concern, before they quickly lost interest and continued about their activities.

Carver readjusted his weapon on his shoulder, his face white as the snow around us. I took one last look at the two replacements before jogging to catch up with O'Grady.

"You alright?" I asked, coming up alongside the Specialist.

O'Grady looked on ahead, "Yeah, that fuckin' kid though, somebody needed to shut him up. I'm tired of his shit."

I sighed and nodded, "We all are, but you should have left that to Singh or Rhodes. If Rhodes hears about this, he's not going to be happy."

O'Grady looked sidelong at me, "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

"Tell him what?" I said with a hint of a smile. O'Grady snorted and continued our walk in silence.

After a few minutes we reached the 2nd Battalion command post, a large dugout situated in third line of trenches, just behind the primary reserve trench. We clomped down the metal steps and into the darkness of the command post, and I was shocked to find what lay below.

A completely furnished command post, just like the ones you would see on bases, lay several feet beneath the surface of the destroyed planet. Like our quarters, every inch of the dugout's interior was covered with metal. The room was big and the lighting was low, only coming from the single doorway and the dozens of screens filling the room. On the immediate right and far walls, a concave of massive viewscreens portrayed every detail of Harvest and the defensive network around Utgard. I thought Utgard's defenses were extreme – massive spiderwebs of trench networks bloomed outwards all around the planet, many of them double or triple the size of ours. The left side of the dugout was filled with metal tables and more computers, complimented with someone tapping away furiously on each holographic computer keypad.

We stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking around for somebody to assist us. Dozens of officers and other staff members bustled around the command post, seemingly unaware of the relaxed situation outside. After a few painstakingly uncomfortable moments, a clean-shaven Private noticed us.

"What can I do for you, sir?" the young, red-haired man asked me.

I removed my helmet and scratched my growing brown hair, "Uhm, we're from D Company, Captain Solomon sent us to pick up a replacement part for our kitchen."

The Private tapped his chin thoughtfully and pulled a datapad out of his back pocket. He punched in a few characters and nodded, "Right, I'll see if we have it. Follow me, sir."

We walked through the busy CP, closely behind the red-haired Private. He led us to a small corridor which led into a larger room at the other end. Stacks of crates full of electronics and other spare parts filled the room, some crates open or half-open. O'Grady was like a kid in a toy store, looking through all the open crates, sifting through their contents. The Private looked at him with certain haughtiness, and continued scanning the electronic tags with his datapad. Eventually the datapad pulsed green when he came upon a rather large crate.

"Here we go," the Private said, unlocking the crate. I peered inside, my eyebrows rising to my forehead.

"That looks like a whole new ignition system to me," I said. The crate contained every piece of the heavy, metal igniter that was used to create heat in the kitchen set. It had to weigh at least 250 pounds.

The Private nodded, "It is."

Weir came up beside me and pushed his glasses up onto his nose, "We have to carry _that_ all the way back to company lines?"

I sighed, "Yep."

The Private tucked his datapad away, "I'll let you get to it then, sir."

"You're not going to help us?" Weir said hurriedly. The Private simply shrugged and walked away.

We each took a position on a corner of the crate and braced to lift it up. Suddenly, an alarm blared in the other room and people crowded around viewscreens and monitors, followed by the muffled shouts and yells of officers and NCOs outside the dugout.

_Another fucking drill. _

"This'll have to wait," I said, and the four of us jogged into the other room.

An image of General Gustav Yefimov, a full-bodied, thick-bearded Russian who commanded the 1st Army Expeditionary Force, filled the main viewscreen, surrounded by officers and NCOs. Colonel Kalamaria Balewa, a strong, powerful African woman and commanding officer of 2nd Battalion, approached the image of the General.

"General, sir, what is the situation?" Colonel Balewa said in her strong East-African accent. She was a skilled and respected leader, although her tactical views were questionable. Unlike Colonel Montgomery, she was willing to sacrifice lives to accomplish the overall mission. We were fearful of her authority and commands in the face of the Covenant.

"Colonel," General Yefimov said in his booming Russian voice, "Covenant vessels have engaged our ships in orbit, and the Fifteenth Force Recon Marines have made contact with Covenant forces about 200 klicks to the east of Utgard. The Covenant are on Harvest, repeat, the Covenant are on Harvest. Prepare for contact."

My innards did a backflip and my throat tightened until I felt like I couldn't breathe. My heart slammed in my chest and I felt like I was going to be sick.

_Oh my God. The Covenant. They're here. _

The Colonel inhaled sharply, and nodded, "Understood sir, Balewa out."

We left the replacement piece for the kitchen and rushed through the chaotic command post and into the equally chaotic trenches, where officers and NCOs directed grumbling troopers to their defensive positions. Little did they know of the danger that was approaching from the east.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Clarke. The fuckin' Covenant are here," O'Grady said shockingly.

I broke into a jog towards D Company lines, "Well Carver, looks like you can finally show us your fighting skills."

"Yeah," Carver managed to whimper, his resolve breaking already at the thought of combat. I pressed my hand to my ear and turned on my helmet mic.

"Rhodes, come in, this is Clarke," I began shakily, "The Covenant are on Harvest and inbound to Utgard."

I was suddenly filled with dread and fear as I heard the sounds that filled my nightmares, the distant whine of Covenant Banshees screaming in from the east. I looked towards the frontlines and saw dozens of machine guns swing into position and take aim at the incoming fliers. The Banshees, hundreds of dots on the horizon, grew closer and louder, until I could make out their purple alloy armor. I double my pace to a near sprint as we raced to our company lines.

Just then, my hammering heart jumped into my throat as the distinct _whoosh_ of the Banshees unleashing their plasma bombs deafened my ears, and I gritted my teeth in anticipation of the following explosion. The machine guns rattled to life and the sound of war consumed everything in the cold winter air around us.

And so it began, again.


	18. Chapter 18: Concerto

Chapter 18: Concerto

**1205 hours, April 15th 2526, (Military Calendar)/  
>Mimir River, Harvest<strong>

After the Banshees had unleashed their payload, they promptly screeched away the way they came. The green plasma bombs exploded in our lines with a resonating boom. Two exploded above the trench nearby, casting burning-hot dirt down on us.

In the proceeding brief silence, the calls for medics and corpsmen promptly echoed throughout the trenches. I slowed our sprint to a jog, as we made our way back to D Company lines. I didn't want to be stuck with unfamiliar officers and NCOs when the Covenant ground forces arrived.

That thought alone sent chills up my spine and made my stomach churn.

I looked back at O'Grady, Carver, and Weir, "We have to get back before everything goes to hell!"

"Like it hasn't already!" O'Grady responded through his deep panting. Running with all your combat gear was incredibly difficult and strenuous. Rarely did one get used to the added weight acting as a second skin.

Rhodes' startled voice crackled over the SQUADCOM, "Clarke, what's your SitRep, over?"

"We're as good as we can be, Staff. We're making our way back to you," I answered nervously. "Is everyone alright on your end?"

A momentary pause made my throat further tighten.

"We're okay, just get back here."

I relaxed as much as I could, "Copy that, out."

Troopers along the frontline aimed their weapons towards the Mimir River, prepared to face whatever enemy dared to crest the far bank. NCOs and officers barked orders and directed soldiers to their positions. Those that were situated in the primary, secondary, and tertiary reserve trench lines similarly prepared themselves, while the dozens of lines of trenches closer to Utgard prepared themselves for the horrific case that the Covenant broke through our four main lines of defense on the Mimir River. If that happened, Utgard was as good as lost.

We continued to make our way through the primary reserve trench, where troopers rushed about in a similar manner to us. We passed through one of the dozens of areas where the Banshee's bombs had found their mark. The metal panelling of the walls and floor was melted and contorted in a glob of black and brown in six foot radius, causing black dirt, ash, and soot to fill the trench. The superheated explosion had evaporated all the snow within ten feet of the blast. A pair of troopers were in the process of pulling the remains of an officer out of the mess. Another soldier was sprawled out on the floor of the trench nearby, the front of his body completely blasted away, leaving charred skeleton and organs visible for all to see. A medic quickly covered the body with a military grade canvas tarp.

Upon seeing the dead, Carver let out a gasp of terror. He stumbled out of the dirt, placed one hand on the wall of the trench, and vomited. He wretched until nothing but dribbles of water came out.

"Woah, easy, easy," I said to the sandy-haired replacement, gingerly placing a hand on his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach. O'Grady looked on with a look of contempt, while Weir stood white-faced and expressionless.

Carver wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Corporal, I just…" he glanced at the officer who had now been pulled out of the black earth, his body missing from the chest-down. Carver vomited again.

"Come on, we have to get moving," I spoke firmly. If he was to survive here, he had to learn to deal with death. In a way I pitied Carver. Such a young person should not have to see a human in that state.

_No person should have to see a human in that state._

Within a few minutes we reached D Company lines and our dugout. The trenches were bustling with troopers, although we easily spotted Charlie Squad standing ready outside of our dugout. They stood on the firing step, eyes scanning the far bank over the heads of those in the frontline a short distance away. Their weapons were clutched close to their bodies, ready to shoot at any enemy that appeared before us. Thick clouds billowed from their mouths, standing vigilant in the cold of Harvest.

Everybody was accounted for but Rhodes. I jumped up onto the firing step beside Mack, swinging my M6J Carbine down from my shoulder and raising it to my front. I looked down the telescopic sight of the M6J, sighting it on the far side of the river bank. I then rested my elbows on the top of the firing step and waited.

"Did anybody get hit?" I asked Mack. The Scotsman turned to me with a bitter look, snow collecting in his fiery-red beard.

"Aye', Alpha Squad got 'ane right in their dugout. All of 'em K.I.A."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, all of 'em?"

Mack simply nodded. The twelve troopers of Alpha Squad were mostly comprised of rookies, although four of them were Biko veterans and close friends of ours. They had been gearing up to man the lines when a single plasma bomb came through their dugout's entrance and detonated in the confined space, killing them instantly. Their deaths hit us hard and reinforced our hatred of the Covenant, although it was a swift and merciful death compared to the hardships those of us would face later.

The Fifteenth Force Recon Marines had engaged the Covenant nearly 200 kilometers east in the town of Halmstad. There were several trench lines on the eastern side of the Mimir that the Covenant would have to break through in order to get to the Mimir Line, however they weren't nearly as well-defended as ours. I feared that it would only be a matter of time before the Covenant reached us, and it would be a short amount of time at that.

Halmstad was insignificant in all other senses besides the importance of its access to Utgard. To the east of Utgard lay an expansive range of rocky hills that proved difficult to traverse. Add a couple feet of snow and it was virtually impossible to cross in large numbers, even for the Covenant. It was a natural defense barrier which protected Utgard's eastern flank. Halmstad, however, was the gateway to the expansive agricultural plains that Harvest was known for. The only similar geographical feature on the whole supercontinent of Edda was the Bifrost, a rugged escarpment that cut diagonally across the landmass. The Halmstad Highway was the sole passage between Utgard and the vast farmland to the east, carving a path through the rugged terrain and thick snow. It was the only way to supply the eastern trench systems via ground transport. Halmstad lay at the end of the highway, an objective that the Covenant would surely want, and a key defense bastion for the UNSC.

We spent the rest of the day standing ready outside of our dugout, vigilantly watching the lines and listening to the COMM chatter. The 15th Force Recon were getting hammered at Halmstad, taking heavy casualties at the hands of Covenant shock troops. We could hear the rumble and roar of battle in the distance, knowing that soon we would experience the might of the Covenant once more.

The Navy had engaged the Covenant once more in orbit, and the aliens were deploying across Harvest. The Covenant attacked all across Edda, although they were repelled with relative ease. The Marines at Halmstad held out for the rest of April 15th, and continued to do so on the 16th. On the morning of April 17th, however, the Covenant unleashed a devastating barrage of plasma artillery upon Halmstad, wiping out the remaining defenders. We heard this over the COMMs and were overcome with dread.

"Oh my fucking God…" Katsubari cursed softly, the colour draining from his face. We huddled around a small portable radio in our dugout, listening to the local UNSC transmissions. With an entire division wiped out in three days, the Covenant invasion force would soon be upon the Mimir River, and after the disaster at Halmstad, who knew how long we would have before our ranks would be smashed and the aliens would march upon Utgard.

Valdez shook his head wide-eyed, "Poor bastards, they didn't stand a chance."

"Do we?" Santos managed to croak.

"Yes, we do," Rhodes said as he entered the dugout. "And you better believe that we do. Brass says we are holding the line no matter what. The Covenant are staging their main force in the eastern plains, and the Halmstad Highway is their red carpet to Utgard."

"How long until they get here?" I asked. I feared the answer, but it was surely a question on everyone's mind.

Rhodes opened a small crate of M9 Frag Grenades and hooked them onto his TacVest. He slid the crate across the metal floor with his foot and gestured for us to take them. We each received two grenades, and similarly hooked them on to our vests as we waited for our squad leader to answer. After a momentary pause, Rhodes hefted his MA5B.

"Division is guessing two hours at most."

We were devastated. Shortly we would be engaging the Covenant once more, the first time I would see combat since Biko last year. My heart raced as I thought about the horrors we had endured at the Battle of Biko.

I thought back to my encounter with the white-armoured Elite at Juravinski Boulevard, and how close I had come to death. I thought about the bug-walker attack, and the hellish subway ride. If that wasn't enough, capturing a Pelican from the high school stadium was suicide in itself. I often thought about what I had experienced, and why I survived so many impossible encounters, and so many others met their deaths in such mundane manners. Maybe there was a God, but then the horrific images of Durban brought me back to my senses.

Rhodes stood in the entrance of the dugout, "Gear up, and get ready."

I wanted out. I wanted out bad. I wanted to be home on Charybdis with my family and away from war and fear and death. For all I knew, these thoughts could be my-

"INCOMING! INCOMING! GET THE FUCK DOWN!"

A young NCO raced through the trenches outside, screaming at the top of his lungs to find cover. Within moments a deafening crash resounded outside, followed by dozens of others. Rhodes dove into the dugout as another detonation crashed nearby, causing all of us to drop to the ground and cover our heads. The entire room shook and dirt fell down from the roof of the dugout.

"What the hell is that!?" Weir asked in terror, cowering in the corner. He was barely audible over the ear-splitting crash and boom.

"Fucking plasma artillery!" Rhodes yelled, belly on the floor. "Everybody get down on the floor!" All of us veterans already knew what to do, so the command was more directed at Carver and Weir, who were crouching in the corners of the dugout. We were safer in the dugout, however it was safest to be belly-down on the floor. I looked over at Carver and Weir who were now lying on the floor, completely terrified.

"Keep your mouths open so your eardrums don't burst!" I yelled, only two feet away from the rookies.

The first time you come under attack by artillery, you experience a fear that is completely different from being in combat. _You_ cannot fight against artillery. You have to sit and wait it out, or be killed. You had those two options and no others. I had been through several rebel mortar attacks, including the massive salvo we experienced during the final assault on the rebel stronghold on Thern. The only other time I had been through a _Covenant_ artillery barrage was during the final evacuation on Biko, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

This barrage, however, was different. Usually you heard the distant _boom_ of the mortars and artillery pieces firing, but the Covenant guns were more of a soft _whoosh_, followed by their discharge coming down with hisses and cracks before hitting the ground and exploding in a deafening crash. Now, picture that sequence of sounds, and multiply it one hundred fold. There was no pause in the explosions as they fell upon our positions.

It was so loud I couldn't hear myself think. I kept my mouth open, carbine resting across my arms, belly-down on the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to find some escape from the terror that fell above me. I had no sense of time, the only thing that my mind could focus on was keeping my mouth open and my eyes shut. After an undetermined amount of time, my ears picked up the telltale _boom, boom, boom,_ of our own 175mm and 440mm counter-battery fire, and the resulting roar of their explosions as they detonated in the distance.

And so this continued for the next _nine hours_. Nine hours of remaining in the same stationary position, not being able to do anything except take it as it came. Finally, at 1612 hours, the barrage let up. A few rounds fell here and there, but nothing to the extent of the past nine hours of hell. Our counter-battery fire, however, didn't let up, and continued to rumble on the far side of the Mimir.

"Everyone okay?" Rhodes croaked, slowly getting to his feet. The rest of us followed suit, mumbling acknowledgements.

Our squad leader nodded, "Turn your COMMs back on if they are off." I had turned mine off to try and minimize the hurricane of noise attacking my hearing. My ears rang and everything took on a much softer and subtle sound. I shook my head to try and clear it, but the ringing continued for several minutes. Singh and Damsel helped me to my feet, and I felt shaky and disoriented.

"You alright, Clarke?" Singh asked with a look of concern. They set me down on a cot.

"I just need a sec, that was a helluva barrage. Ever heard anything like it?" Both Damsel and Singh shook their heads.

"Never in my lifetime," Damsel said, picking up his M6J Carbine. I flicked my COMMs back on and I was instantly overwhelmed with chatter. I filtered out everything but the SQUADCOM, which was currently in a state of blissful silence. Lieutenant Li suddenly appeared at the entrance of the dugout, leaning in to the interior.

"Anyone hurt?" the Japanese officer asked quickly, scanning the room. He saw us in a relatively good shape, and he jerked his gloved thumb behind him, "Get your squad moving, Rhodes, take as much ammo as you can with you to the frontlines and hold fast."

Rhodes retrieved his assault rifle, and before he could answer, the Lieutenant had darted away. Our squad leader turned to us, "You heard the man, let's move, Charlie Squad."

We gathered our things and made our way outside. The scene we emerged into was like nothing I had ever seen before. All of the snow was gone, evaporated instantly by the falling plasma. In its place was a glassy, hard substance that was produced where the plasma artillery had fallen. The metal panelling of the trenches had been melted and contorted wherever they were exposed to the superheated plasma. Molten steel dripped from twisted pieces of metal sticking out of the earth, and pieces of steel were strewn everywhere. The smell of sulfur and burnt flesh clogged my nostrils and made me gag, causing me to cover my face with a gloved hand. It did very little to prevent the burning scent from entering my nose.

Bodies of those who were unlucky enough to be caught outside during the initial barrage filled the trenches, or what was left of them. Faces were unrecognizable. The only way to physically identify a body, or body part, was by the off-chance that a section of skin wasn't burned black, and a tattoo or birthmark was visible. Troopers with scanners walked around to the charred and smoldering corpses and registered the deceased's neural implants, confirming with a soft _blip-blip. _That sound would become uncomfortably familiar and would haunt my mind for the rest of my life.

"Holy shit," Valdez coughed, similarly covering his nose with his arm. He surveyed the scene around him with wide eyes. He was at a loss for words. O'Grady walked beside me in stunned silence.

We made our way through the chaotic trenches towards the frontline, and we took up positions along the remaining firing steps and firebays. The Mimir River shimmered with that glassy substance, completely blackened and pitted by the Covenant artillery barrage. I fixated my carbine on the far bank of the river, clenching and unclenching my hands on the weapon, preparing to shoot at anything that crested bank. The river would prove to be a difficult obstacle for the Covenant to traverse, with the steepness of the banks, the depth of the river, and the sheer distance of open riverbed to cross. Their artillery barrage had taken a heavy, heavy toll on our defenses and our numbers, but we were dug in deep and had no intention of leaving. The Covenant would pay in blood for every foot of riverbed they crossed.

The wind blew briskly across our faces as we watched the river. My heart hammered in my chest. I was scared. Mack stood beside me, assault rifle at the ready, his deep blue eyes scanning the horizon. I pursed my lips and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good luck, Mack," I muttered with a small grin.

"You too, Clarke," he replied, smirking as he smacked the side of my helmet. It eased the tension knowing that I had my best friend at my side. The minutes on the clock of my HUD ticked by, waiting in silence along with thousands of others along the Mimir Line.

At 1731 hours, movement was spotted on the far bank.

Murmurs arose from the ranks, and were quickly quelled by the NCOs and officers. Absolute silence had to be maintained in order to keep the element of surprise.

"Eyes front! Load and lock," the lean figure of Captain Solomon bellowed, waving his magnum towards the riverbed. "Don't shoot until the order is given!"

I enhanced the zoom on my helmet monocle and scanned the east bank of the river. I gasped as I saw the squat figures of a dozen Grunts shambling down the steep riverbank. They had four hundred metres to cross until they reached our trenches, and a fifty metre descent to the bottom of the river. They would be swiftly cut down before they could even pull off a shot. I didn't like it, though, and I saw Lieutenant Li down the line shaking his head. Everybody shifted uncomfortably. The Covenant obviously knew where we were, and this was just an advance scouting party in order to size up the opposition. If we all fired, we would give away our exact position.

The aliens made it to the bottom of the bank and surveyed the area before crossing. They moved slowly and cautiously, grey heads looking this way and that. Captain Solomon crouched on a firing step, hand in the air. When the aliens had come halfway across the river, his hand came down swiftly.

"Fire at will!"

The company opened up on the handful of small aliens, mowing them down before they were even aware of our presence. They spasmed under the combined fire, blue blood spurting from their bodies in dozens of places. Within seconds, they were dead. Nobody from our platoon dared to fire, as we were well aware of the dangers associated with it and the hell we would receive from Lieutenant Li.

Captain Solomon barked with laughter, "To hell with ya', fuckers!" The men along the line cursed the aliens as they lay in pools of their luminescent blood.

"Fuck you and your alien buttbuddies!"

"How does that feel, cocksuckers!"

"That's what happens when you tango with the army!"

And so on and so forth. This small victory proved to the rookies that the Covenant were not these unkillable boogeymen, and that they were soft, fleshy targets that could be killed. But we veterans knew better. We knew that once the Jackals, Elites, and armour came out, there would be no trash talk.

The curses continued until there was more movement on the east bank. Captain Solomon gave the same fire discipline order, and the troopers took aim once more, confident in their ability to confront and kill the enemy. Expecting another small group, we were caught off guard when we saw what came down the far bank.

"Oh my God, look at 'em!" Weir yelled with terror.

Hundreds of Grunts poured over the riverbank, plodding down the black, glassy slope en masse. Their ranks extended as far as I could see as more and more of them charged over the riverbank. I was overwhelmed with fear as the Grunts began to discharge their weapons by the thousands. Green bolts of plasma and pink shards of crystal flew over our heads, completely inaccurate at such a long range. But the sheer amount of fire was enough to hit several troopers along the line.

"Shoot! Shoot! Shoot them, Goddamnit!" Captain Solomon yelled, firing his magnum into the horde of aliens.

Hundreds turned into thousands as the entire twenty-mile Mimir Line exploded with gunfire, cutting into the ranks of Grunts. The heavy fifties and the 7.62mm bipod-mounted machine guns roared to life, and the resonating _boom, boom, boom_ of our artillery firing filled my ears like some twisted symphony of death. Hundreds of Grunts were killed in seconds, tripping up their comrades behind them. But they kept coming.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," I spat continuously as I took aim at individual Grunts that pulled ahead of the screaming, squealing horde, and sent them tumbling face-first onto the riverbed. The noise grew louder and louder as more guns and screams were fed into the chorus of destruction, until I couldn't even hear Rhodes yelling over the SQUADCOM in my ear.

Our artillery shells fell into their ranks, sending huge plumes of black earth into the air, decimating the waves upon waves of grunts. But nothing could stop them as they got closer and closer, and more and more of them came charging and screaming over the east bank. They pushed the front ranks forward, urging them onwards to their deaths. They came within a hundred metres of our lines, and continued to advance. They scrambled over their dead, firing their weapons wildly. Dozens of troopers fell under their combined fire, putting Mack and the other medics to work quickly.

Mack dashed off the line to treat a woman who had taken a plasma bolt to the neck, and Damsel jumped up beside me.

"Holy fuck! They just keep coming!" the Portuguese private screamed, firing his assault rifle into the fray.

I said nothing and primed a frag grenade, barring my teeth and lobbing it into the mob. The explosive sailed through the air and disappeared into the horde of aliens, detonating and killing a dozen of them. I couldn't even make out the dull explosion over the noise.

Damsel slid a fresh magazine into his weapon and screamed, "Die! Die! Die!"

A red-armoured grunt pulled ahead of the horde ahead of us. It raised its weapon at us, and I quickly took aim with my carbine and put a bullet in its head. It flopped backwards, its lifeless hand pulling off a single bolt.

The green bolt of plasma struck me dead-center in the chest. I was thrown backwards off of the firing step and onto the metal floor panelling several feet away. The superheated plasma sizzled through my chestplate, causing me to tear the piece of ballistic armour off before it ate through to my skin. I looked at my chest, a large, ragged hole burned through my BDU tunic. The skin underneath was a mix of red, black and pink, and it bled from spots where the plasma didn't instantly cauterize the wound.

I was so full of adrenaline that I didn't realize how much pain I was in, I simply lay on my back, staring at my wounded chest. I looked to my left, eye just above the floor of the trench. Rivulets of blood from the wounded and dead coursed underneath me, soaking the side of my head and my back with the deep red fluid.

Damsel turned and looked at me on the ground of the trench, and screamed "Clarke!" But I couldn't hear him over the chaotically violent roar of death around me. Damsel turned to help me, but caught a pair of bolts in the back of the head and neck.

He tumbled to the floor beside me, only the front half of his head remaining. Brains and blood spilled from the back of his head, his lifeless face transfixed on me with a look of terror, mere inches from my own.

The corners of my vision began to turn black as I held on to consciousness, now fully aware of the excruciating pain in my chest. I screamed for help, causing Valdez and O'Grady to take notice of my distress.

Valdez cursed and fell to his knees beside me, trying to figure out how to treat the wound. O'Grady saw Damsel on the ground and realized that he was dead. The tech specialist yanked one of the two dog tags off and tucked it into a pocket, rolling our dead squadmate away and crawling over to assist Valdez.

O'Grady's mouth moved, but I couldn't make out words, as Valdez yelled something that couldn't be heard over the sound of battle.

A medic appeared beside Valdez, and she quickly gave me a shot of adrenaline to keep me from blacking out. The pain was unbearable. I screamed at the top of my lungs, unable to hear myself. The medic pulled out another needle, which I recognized as morphine, and she injected it into my arm. The medic dressed my wound with antibiotics and gauze, and I was hoisted up between O'Grady and Valdez, one arm over each of their shoulders.

The opening months of the Harvest Campaign ended for me as quickly as they had begun.


	19. Chapter 19: Friends in Low Places

Chapter 19: Friends in Low Places

**2005 hours, April 20****th**** 2526, (Military Calendar)/**

**Utgard, Harvest**

I was abruptly woken on the evening of April 20th by a datapad-toting Navy nurse, "Wakey wakey, Corporal. We need this bed. Let's see how you're doing this morning."

I had spent the better part of five days writhing in pain in a crowded Combat Support Hospital, somewhere in the crumbling ruins of Utgard. The plasma bolt that had struck my chest was a shot of sheer chance, albeit one that had nearly put me out of the war permanently. The med-techs told me that if the bolt had hit anywhere else on my torso, I would be dead. The ballistic chestpiece took most of the initial momentum and heat of the shot, saving my life.

I opened one eye and rolled onto my back. I groaned softly as a stab of pain shot through my chest, flesh pulling at the edges of the third-degree burn. I unbuttoned the top half of my grey fatigues, gazing down at the burn. The combat surgeon had grafted it well, although it was a multitude of colours and still throbbed with pain.

"Hmm," the nurse muttered, examining my chest. "You've healed up nicely, Corporal."

I forced a smile. I thought about some of my past brushes with death, notably the point-blank shotgun blast to the gut on Thern. Now _that_ was luck pulling me through.

"Well, you're free to go." She held out her datapad, "I just need to scan your thumbprint."

I pushed my thumb onto the screen and held it until it pulsed a light blue. The nurse gave me a tired smile and directed me to the front of the climate-controlled mobile hospital. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, slipped on my muddy boots, collected my thick polyfiber, canvas, and light-guage steel backpack containing my personal effects and made my way to the exit.

It took me two minutes to check over my equipment in the far corner of the hospital tent, and another minute to put it all on. I had been issued a brand new winter combat vest, which seemed out of place amongst the rest of my grimy, chipped gear. I put the new ballistic vest on, then the ballistic shoulder pauldrons, kneepads, and webbing went on next. After strapping a large soft case to my left thigh, I put my helmet on and took my precious Magnum out of the bag. I stroked its dull chrome surface before placing it in its holster on my right thigh. I slipped my combat knife into its sheathe at my hip.

I had lost my rifle yet again.

The combat hospital was a dank and dreary place, whitewashed by the depressing hospital fixtures hung a foot above our heads. I guessed that there were around 300 beds in the hard-sided, temperature controlled tent. Attached to the main treatment tent were similar, smaller tents, including a pharmacy, several major surgery rooms, and a triage center. Around me was a buzzing hive of activity, filled with the horrific norms of a combat hospital. Wounded Army troopers, Marines, Navy personnel, and pilots groaned, screamed, and howled in their beds, waiting for the overworked doctors, nurses, medics, and corpsmen to lay their healing hands on them.

I emerged from the stuffy combat hospital into the depressing military traffic of Utgard. Darkness had already fallen upon the crumbling capital, the streets illuminated by the headlights of Warthogs, electrical lanterns, torched oil drums, and generator-powered floodlights. The city was no more than rubble and ruin, yet everywhere I looked, the cold, shivering frames of military personnel went about their business. I stood on the rubble and snow covered street outside of the combat hospital, completely unknowing as to where I should go. A convoy of two dozen Warthogs packed with troops and supplies rolled past me, the Marines they carried wearing the faces of men condemned to death.

I pushed made my way through the columns of Marines and Army troops moving to the front, the distant noise of battle echoing throughout the streets. I knew there had to be an Army registration post in Utgard, where strays and lost soldiers could be redirected to their original units. I wandered the busy streets aimlessly for the better part of half an hour, asking anybody who stopped where I could find the Army relocation center. The vast majority of men in this sector of the city were enlisted Marines, and couldn't give me any assistance. Finally, I stumbled upon a platoon of Army troopers lounging amongst the remains of a shop in the darkness, and I was overcome with a wave of relief.

"Hey, what unit are you guys with?" I asked a pair of NCOs leaning against a concrete pillar.

A grimy, bearded Sergeant looked at me, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, "19th Transportation Battalion." I had never heard of the unit before, but I nodded anyways.

"Do you know where the Army relocation center is?"

The Corporal standing with the bearded man pointed at the group with his chin, "Right here, mate. Join the bloody queue."

I looked around the mass of eighty-odd men, and noticed two Army MPs sitting on Mongoose quad bikes on the other side of the shop. They both carried datapads and were helping one man at a time. I waited for more than an hour to be looked after, chatting idly with the other troopers waiting to return to their units. I learned that the Covenant were mainly pressing from the west, and some of the stories I heard made the assault on the Mimir Line seem like a pony ride. A rainy wind blew in sleet, and we hunkered down in our jackets to try and keep out some of the wet.

"You're from D/2/10, yeah?" a voice asked from the darkness. I looked around from my seat against a large piece of blackened concrete, and confirmed the man's question.

"I'm from F/2/10, Captain Abramov's company," the man answered, emerging from the darkness and taking a seat beside me. He introduced himself as Private Reagan "Bender" Bendemann, a muscled, Jewish-Italian with an incredibly baritone voice. He carried an MA37, one of the older models of assault rifle, but at least he had a rifle. We sat in the rain, talking about our experiences so far, but we mostly talked about our families and life back home.

"I was a heavy equipment operator for Traxus before I signed up. Helluva job, that one," Bender said, lighting up a cigarillo.

I chuckled, "Good old Traxus Heavy Industries. My dad used to work for them."

My parents died when I was in my early teens. My mother died of a rare brain disease, which slowly robbed her of her motor skills and primary functions, before paralyzing her and ultimately ending in her death. My father, devastated, left me with my grandparents a few months after her death, and never returned. As far as I'm concerned, he is dead.

Bender blew a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth, "What about you?"

"I was an office worker. Not much to it."

"Money is money."

Our conversation went on for fifteen minutes or so before the MPs called us over. My new companion and got up off the wet ground and carefully stepped through the scorched rubble to reach the policemen on the street.

Both military policemen, one man and one woman, were of Asian descent and wore the distinctive black diamond with the letters "MP" in white on their ballistic pauldrons and their helmets. Perched on their Mongooses, their rifles lay across the steel cage in front of the handlebars, allowing for easy access. M7 SMGs and M6 Magnums were attached to their thighs, making the police possibly one of the best-armed units on Harvest.

The female MP looked up from her datapad, her eyes narrowed in response to the sleeting rain, "Name and unit?"

"Corporal James Clarke, D/2/10," I responded firmly, ensuring that the police wouldn't make an error in my unit. Bender responded with his name and unit as well.

"Hmm, looks like your battalion moved further west, somewhere between the east bank of the Mimir and exit Golf Uniform Niner of the Halmstad Highway," the male policeman told us, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand while staring at his datapad.

"Alright," Bender said with his deep, bass-like voice, "How do we get there?"

The female MP uploaded a NAV marker onto our HUDs, "There is a Marine resupply convoy heading out towards Halmstad. If you haul ass, you might be able to hitch a ride back to your battalion HQ, and they can deal with you there."

With a brief wave of thanks, Bender and I jogged through the cracked, blackened, rubble-covered streets of Utgard towards the NAV marker. Nothing remained of the city but concrete and melted metal. Everything else and been destroyed by the Covenant. How they did it, I didn't know. I assumed the damage was caused by heavy plasma artillery, but I wouldn't encounter the true power of the Covenant until much later.

Finally, after clambering through half a dozen destroyed buildings and covering close to half a kilometer on foot in the dark and rain, we reached a wide street serving as an LZ and staging point for convoys. Huffing and puffing, we reached a column of four dozen flatbed, troop transport, and LAAG Warthogs loading up Marines and supplies destined for the front.

The dark, rainy street was illuminated by half a dozen floodlights and the headlights of the Warthogs. The sound of the Warthog's engines drowned out the yells and orders from the Marine officers directing troops and supplies to their respective vehicles.

"Hey, are you guys heading out towards Halmstad?" I yelled to a trio of Marines boarding a transport Warthog.

One Marine looked back at us, halfway up the back of the 'Hog. He responded in the affirmative, clearly not taken with the idea of talking to a pair of Army troopers. The rivalry between the Marine Corps and the Army ran strong, but all differences and disputes were put aside on the battlefield.

"What are you two doing here?" a soaking wet lieutenant yelled at us from across the street, directing ammunition, weapons, and food crates onto the back of a flatbed Warthog. Bender and I approached the officer.

"We are trying to get back to our battalion, sir. We were directed here by the MPs. Do you think we could hitch a ride?" I asked hesitantly, not knowing what we would do if the lieutenant said no.

The young officer spat a glob of chewing tobacco from his mouth, "If you can find some space after the Marines load up, sure. But don't start crying if there is no room, these guys are priority one."

We stood around in the rain, shuffling our feet awkwardly as we waited for the seventy-odd jarheads and several Warthogs full of supplies to be loaded up. Finally, around 2300, we found a 'Hog that had enough space for the two of us. It was a traditional transport Warthog, with two benches facing inwards behind the driver's seat, with the roll cage over top. A thick polyfiber or metal cover could be placed over the roll cage, but ours did not. Each bench sat five people. As the war dragged on, the transport Warthogs with the outward-facing seats became more common, as they provided better mobile defense.

As we clambered into the back of the Warthog, the eight other Marines eyed us down.

"Give me a hand here, will ya?" I asked a young, tanned Marine on the end of the bench. The Marine offered me his hand and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I strained my chest wound, which still throbbed dully with pain. After a few moments, the convoy jolted forward and began to move through the streets of Utgard towards the eastern front.

"Where's your rifle?" the Marine beside me asked.

I shrugged, "I lost it."

The kid and two of his buddies barked with laughter, "Are you serious? Going into a hotzone without a weapon?"

I patted the Magnum on my thigh, "I've got all I need right here."

The Marine laughed again, "Fuck man, you're going to get yourself killed."

I swallowed hard, anger beginning to boil up inside of me. Look at this kid! Clean shaven, not a speck of dirt on his face, pristine body armour. He was a replacement, no doubt. Probably fresh out of boot. Did he have any clue who he was talking to?

I stared at Bender, who rolled his eyes and stared up into the night sky. The Marine continued to snicker with his friends.

"Hey, kid. Shut the hell up. The Corporal over there has probably been fighting since you were in high school," a rugged looking Marine on the far end of the opposite bench snapped.

I was puzzled, he wasn't dressed in the traditional Marine BDU. He carried no unit identifiers on my HUD, and was a simple blue blip on his Friend-or-Foe tag. He wore more ballistic armour than a regular Marine, and wore a black bandana underneath his helmet. He sported a beard that was much longer than regulation length. Three others in the 'Hog were similarly dressed, although they all wore widely different personal equipment. They each wore a red circle patch on their shoulder, with a gold border and a black Ace of Spades in the center.

These identifiers clued me in that him and the three other silent soldiers in our Warthog were special forces operators. They were undoubtedly MARSOC, the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. They were among the elite UNSC soldiers, the best trained individuals in the Marine Corps. I had never met a member before, and I never intended to. They carried a deadly reputation, comparable to that of the legendary ODSTs or the Army Rangers.

The Marine beside me flushed with embarrassment, or maybe fear, as the man called him out. Bender snorted.

"You with the 10th Infantry?" the bearded MARSOC operator asked me. A BR55 Battle Rifle lay across his lap, one of the newest weapons available to the Marine Corps. I hoped that the Army would issue them soon, if I didn't wind up dead.

I nodded, "Yeah, I'm with 2nd Battalion, Delta Company."

An operator carrying a sniper rifle looked over at me, "No shit, huh? Do you know Sean O'Grady?"

I recoiled slightly with surprise, "Yeah, he's my squad's tech specialist."

"He's my baby brother."

O'Grady had told me about his older brother serving with the Marines, but he had never mentioned him being a MARSOC operator. I was blown away. I could see the resemblance: the blond hair, angular face, and set jaw were definitely there.

"No shit?"

He shook his head, "Nope. How's he doing?"

I shrugged, "Fine, last time I saw him. I just got out of the hospital."

He seemed to relax a bit, "Good. The name's Gator, by the way. This is Goblin Team."

"Not your real name, I take it?" Gator didn't answer. I took that as a no.

"Were you at the front?" the replacement Marine next to Bender asked me wide-eyed.

I nodded, "Literally right on the east bank of the Mimir. The Covenant hit us hard, but we held them back. I took one in the chest." I said, patting my chestpiece lightly.

The bearded MARSOC operator grunted, "You're one tough S.O.B."

We continued our ride through the dark, rainy streets of Utgard, our conversation trailing off as we entered into the desolate, empty countryside. The road was a mess of black, muddy ruts in the ground. The snow had been reduced to slush, creating a sticky mess that proved to be an obstacle for the heavy-laden Warthogs. Every few minutes we would pass an abandoned vehicle at the side of the road, either out of gas or broken down.

The sound of battle grew louder as time went by. The horizon to the east was like a firework show, our artillery and mixed with the Covenant artillery created a myriad of blue, orange and white in the sky. My heart began to race again as the thought of battle began to sink in once more. It was one thing I could never get used to. Being in combat was almost mindless, yet your brain works faster and harder than ever. You didn't have time for fear. The anticipation of battle is what always got me. Your mind was not thinking about the danger at hand, rather the possible outcomes of it.

"Looks like they're really giving us hell," Bender muttered, eyes fixated on the artillery.

"And it isn't going to stop anytime soon," I replied, getting a chorus of grunts from the MARSOC team.

We passed several artillery batteries, some active, some waiting for orders. The convoy pulled into a makeshift motorpool beside a rocky hill, containing nothing but a pair of Mongooses and a lone Scorpion tank. The flattened area was illuminated by four floodlights, washing the darkness away with a white light. The hastily scrawled sign at the entrance read, 'Halmstad Highway Exit GV11'. A handful of Marines emerged from a dugout in the side of the hill and unloaded a dozen crates of supplies.

"This is our stop, boys," the bearded MARSOC operator, Zeus, told his team.

"Do you know if the 2/10 HQ is nearby, sir?" I asked hastily. Zeus jumped down from the 'Hog, followed by the rest of the MARSOC team.

"My best guess is that it is somewhere to the northeast of here. This convoy is going to start heading southeast," Zeus said, scratching his beard.

"How do we get there?"

Zeus looked around at the other team members, "If you don't get in our way, you can tag along with us. We are heading up that way."

Bender and I unquestionably jumped out of the Warthog and fell in with Goblin Team. The convoy pulled out of the motorpool and onto the dark road, quickly disappearing from sight.

"You'll need a rifle," Zeus said flatly, walking over to the dugout and quickly returning with a weapon. He handed me a BR55. "Do you know how to work one of these?"

"No, but the skills can apply."

Zeus cracked a smile, "That's the kind of attitude I like."

We moved out in a loose single file formation, with about ten feet between each person. Once we got onto the road I could barely see the person in front of me. Flashes of light from the battle to the east dimly illuminated the road every few seconds. The pace was much faster than a regular patrol, and I struggled to keep up with the Marine special operators. I slipped and slid through the wet, sticky mud, causing me to double my already strained efforts.

After an hour and a half on the road, around 0200, we reached another motorpool, the last one before we crossed the Mimir. This one was much more active, containing around fifteen Warthogs and several dozen Marines and Army troopers organizing themselves to move out. We approached a pair of unused Warthogs, one Gauss and one LAAG. A Marine staff sergeant, probably the NCO in charge of the motorpool, was leaning on a nearby transport Warthog, tapping away at a holopad.

"Mount up, boys, we're riding in style," Zeus ordered, and we climbed into the two Warthogs. I got in the passenger seat of the LAAG with Gator driving, and another member of Goblin Team, Boomer, on the turret. Our two 'Hogs roared to life.

As we began to drive, the Staff Sergeant dove in front of the Gauss 'Hog, "Stop! You can't take these!"

"Is anyone using them?" Zeus said dryly from the driver's seat of the opposite Warthog.

The NCO shook his head, "No, but you still can't take them."

Gator floored our 'Hog and we sped past the Staff Sergeant, who let out a cry of surprise. I whipped around in my seat and saw Zeus swerve past the man, following close behind us.

A burst of maniacal laughter erupted from Gator and Boomer, as we sped towards hell itself on the horizon, the battle ringing loud in our ears.

Clutching the seat with a white knuckle grip, I began to regret the decision of traveling with a team of borderline insane MARSOC operators.

I should've walked.


	20. Chapter 20: To Hell and Back

Chapter 20: To Hell and Back

**0216 hours, April 21st 2526, (Military Calendar)/**  
><strong>Bytoften, Harvest<strong>

After a few minutes of driving through the heavy sleet, we approached a small, ruined town on our route to the northeast, and what we hoped was our battalion HQ.

The city's buildings were bold, skeletal figures against the backdrop of the hellish orange and black horizon. The clatter of human weapons clashed against the whine of alien plasma, and explosions reverberated dull thuds through the seat of the Warthog.

"Shit, did the Covenant get into the town?" Bender asked over the COM channel.

"How? The frontline is miles away," I responded, a frightening uncertainty washing over me. I wasn't ready to fight before I had to. My most recent near-death experience had taken away some confidence in my fighting ability, and that was what scared me the most.

Zeus' voice crackled over the COM, "The fuckers have been punching huge holes in our lines over the past couple days. Units are getting their flanks exposed and overrun by the hour. We are here to stop that, so if you boys wanna' get back to your battalion, you're gonna' have to go through good ol' Bytoften."

With no other options, we sucked it up and stayed with Goblin Team.

After dismounting the 'Hogs, the six of us proceeded into the ruined town of Bytoften, occupied by elements of the Marine 5th Recon Battalion and the 105th ODST Battalion. The Covenant had punched through a sector of the Mimir Line the day before and were channeled through a narrow ravine towards the once sleepy town. Nestled between two towering escarpments, Bytoften was one of the quickest ways to reach Utgard, and the one with the least resistance for the Covenant.

Staying close to the crumbling wall of a storefront, we worked our way down a long, dark street towards the roaring sound of battle. We ducked through the blackened husk of a building and emerged on the next block over. It was like we stepped through a portal. It was a large, flat area, surrounded on all sides by the tall, broken frames of the buildings that survived the planet's devastation. The street was built in an east-west direction. The ground was ravaged by thousands of shell craters, caused by both UNSC and Covenant artillery. The darkness was vanquished by the hundreds of brilliant flashes of light of both side's weapons, painting the surrounding buildings in a canvas of colours. I could make out the hundreds of black, shapeless masses cowering in the shell craters as the innumerable figures of Covenant troops advanced on their positions.

Within seconds blue and green plasma smashed against the concrete wall behind us, causing us to scramble for cover wherever we could find it. We all tumbled into a deep, water filled shell crater carved into the blackened earth a few meters away. It was about fifteen feet in diameter, and filled with a foot of brown water. We were greeted by yelps of surprise and fright by a group of ten dirty, terrified Marines cowering in the mud.

Several of them tried to crawl backwards up the side of the crater to try and escape us, but they failed. They all had the look of deer caught in headlights on their faces, their eyes so wide I thought their eyelids were gone. For a moment I believed they would shoot us, thinking we were the enemy, before Zeus grabbed hold of the sanest looking Marine and shook him to his senses.

"Who's in charge here?" the MARSOC team leader yelled in the man's face.

The Marine looked like he had gone mad, and with a trembling finger, pointed across the crater. A figure was sitting against the far wall of our refuge, his features indistinguishable in the low light. Just then, a flash illuminated the night sky, and cast a soft white light over the town. Someone had launched a flare.

The eerie white light cast long shadows over the town as it slowly drifted towards the ground, causing each individual raindrop to turn a brilliant silver colour. I looked back over to the sitting figure, and was horrified at what I saw. A mutilated corpse rested against the crater wall, water up to his midriff. His blue lips were curled back in the most gruesome smile I had ever seen. His skin was a sickening grey and his lifeless hands clutched at a massive, gaping hole in his stomach. The remains of his stomach and intestines spilled out of the hole in his body, floating on the surface of the water like something out of a horror movie. I looked away to prevent myself from vomiting.

"Everyone fall back! Fall back to the rally point!" an officer screamed over the TACCOM. Before we knew it, Marines were falling into our crater, scrambling over us, and up the other side. More than a few were killed and fell on top of me. I distinctly remember one fellow who tumbled over us, a pink crystalline shard through his neck. He was trampled into the bottom of the crater and subsequently drowned before we could reach him.

I was terrified. My brain was screaming, screeching with fear, and I felt like breaking down and crying. I felt like I couldn't move even if I tried. But before I knew it Bender was screaming in my face.

"Clarke! Get up, man! We have to go!" he grabbed my webbing and hauled me to my feet, and we slogged through the water and corpses and pulled ourselves over the top of the other side of the crater. The scene reminded me of rats pouring out of a sewer, the black shapes of men and women spilling out over the tops of holes and dashing towards the western end of the pitted street.

Plasma fizzed and cracked through the air around me, cutting down dozens of retreating Marines. I felt several shots zip past me, searing my armour, but I could do nothing and continued sprinting as fast as I could down the street, avoiding as many craters as I could. My legs felt like they were on fire, I heaved and gasped for breath, but I knew if I slowed I would be killed.

I saw the reinforced barricades at the end of the street, marking the beginning of the reserve lines. I catapulted myself over a low sandbag wall and plummeted five feet down into a massive collective of shell craters, joined as one giant hole in the ground. Hundreds of Marines packed themselves into the relative safety of this hole, which was easily sixty feet in diameter, spanning the entire width of the road.

"Fucking hell! We're getting slaughtered out there!" Bender cursed as he slid down beside me, wheezing for breath. Machine gun positions along the edge of the crater poured down the length of the street, cutting swaths through the advancing ranks of Grunts and Jackals, but that didn't stop them. The shrieks and howls of dying Covenant joined with those of our own wounded. I felt like tearing my hair out and screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming until it hurt. I was cold, wet, exhausted, and more terrified than I had ever been in my life.

The fact that I was scared intensified my fear tenfold.

_This isn't me. I don't get scared._

I was with an unfamiliar unit in the middle of an unorganized and chaotic battle. It wasn't the first time that I thought that I was going to die.

Some Marines found their courage, while others fired their weapons in pure rage. Every time that I looked up at the soldiers holding the line against the Covenant, half a dozen of them were flung backwards, like a giant invisible hand swatting them away. They fell into the wet mud with tormenting wails and screeches, clawing at gruesome wounds or missing limbs.

I sank to my knees in the middle of that crater. I felt truly hopeless. I knew I was going to die there.

I looked around, accepting the inevitable, and took in the state of the Marines around me. Many of them were dead. The mud-caked corpses lay about in unnatural, hideous positions. Dismembered limbs were scattered about. Gallons of blood were mixed in with the churning mess at the bottom of the crater. Dozens of Marines wept, or sat motionless, or shambled around aimlessly.

A young Marine, younger than me, fell backwards, and sat crying in the water. He pulled out a Magnum and shot himself in the head.

"What the fuck do we do? Where is Zeus?!" Bender screamed frantically. I stared at the big man, wide-eyed. I didn't know what to do.

_I have to pull myself together. I _will_ die if I don't._

As if on cue, Gator and Zeus appeared out of the crowd.

"Troopers! Over here!" Zeus called, beckoning us over. He and Gator seemed like the only sane ones among us. I shuffled over, still in a dazed stupor. I composed myself as much as I could, trying to pull myself together enough to get the job done.

Gator thrust a large weapon into Bender's arms, "You and Clarke get up there and give those Jarheads a hand!"

"Where are you going?!" I yelled, rain streaming down my face.

"To give the Helljumpers a hand with clearing out some of those bastards!" he said walking backwards, before running after Zeus.

The gun in Bender's arms was an HMG-38, an old, belt-fed machine gun that was fairly outdated, but it still worked and could deal some serious damage. I have no recollection of accepting the belts of ammunition from Zeus, and the next thing I knew I was helping Bender set up the bipod on the machine gun at the lip of the crater. I had used these kinds of machine guns before, but it had only been in basic training and I struggled to remember how to load it.

Plasma bolts kicked up the mud around the top of the crater, causing us to duck below every time one landed near, which was often. We were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Marines along the low wall of sandbags at the lip of the crater, and every time one of them fell, another replaced him or her immediately.

The street was a mountainous landscape of shell holes and countless bodies, illuminated by the white flare slowly dying out overhead. Hundreds of Covenant troops advanced on our positions, but we held our ground.

I loaded a belt of ammunition into the breech, and Bender slammed it shut, pushing the bolt forward and shouldered the machine gun. The string of cartridges slid through my hands with brutal rapidity, and the noise of the gun burst against my eardrums over the roar of battle. Our machine gun joined in with the other five, as well as the dozens of rifles and grenades cutting down the enemy.

"We need some damn artillery!" I screamed to Bender, who gritted his teeth and gave no reply. He transitioned from target to target, never taking his finger off the trigger. Grunts fell back with luminescent blue blood spurting from their wounds, and the energy shields carried by the Jackals gave under our combined fire.

In the blink of an eye, a beam of green plasma shot past me and grazed my neck, instantly cauterizing. I screamed out in pain, clutching the side of my neck with one hand.

"Clarke! Are you alright?" Bender cried out.

I barred my teeth, "Yeah, I'm fine. It just nicked me."

_That_ pissed me off.

Streaks of smoke and fire shot out from the buildings on either side of the street, which I recognized as SPNKr missiles. The explosions killed several dozen aliens, who were too stunned to react. That was definitely the work of Goblin Team.

"They're retreating! Christ, they're retreating!" a Marine next to me yelled triumphantly. A chorus of "hoorahs" roared from the ranks of Marines.

_Oh my God, they are retreating. _

"We're out!" Bender yelped, taking his finger off the trigger for the first time. I quickly loaded another belt of ammunition into the breech, and Bender continued his output of death.

"Bender, Clarke, relocate, bastards are trying to punch through on the left flank," Zeus said over the COMM.

I hung the belts of ammunition around my neck and detached the bipod. The barrel of the HMG was burning hot, only mildly cooled by the sleet. Bender bit the bullet and grabbed it, biting his tongue to prevent himself from crying out.

"You okay?" I yelled to him, but he simply nodded, barring his teeth.

We made our way down the line and through the buildings to our left, passing by dozens of Marines, both wounded and fighting, preventing the Covenant from coming through the ruined structures. We emerged on the next street over, which was in a similar state to the previous, if not worse.

We spotted Zeus, Gator, and one of the other members of Goblin team, Hazard, hunkered down in a small shell crater, periodically returning fire to the advancing Covenant. We ran doubled over towards them, and hurled ourselves down into the muddy hole.

"Glad you boys could make it," Zeus yelled, spraying a trio of Grunts with an SMG. "Get your MG set up before our not-so-lovely guests stop you from having a choice."

I looked around the crater briefly, "Where's Boomer?"

Gator and Hazard both gave me momentary solemn expressions before turning their attention back to the battle. I looked over at Zeus and he simply shook his head.

Steeling ourselves, we set ourselves up again, Bender taking aim down the length of the machine gun and opening up into an advancing Elite. The blue-armoured alien emitted a low warble before collapsing into the muck, purple blood spilling from its wounds.

With the sudden presence of another MG, the Covenant advance was caught off guard and turned part of their attention towards us, which allowed the other Marines and ODSTs an open opportunity to cut them down. The tide of the battle had turned.

_We are winning. Goddamnit, we are actually winning._

The bulbous shape of a Wraith moved up the length of the street, launching crackling blue balls of plasma towards our position.

"Oh shit," Gator uttered.

"Gator, Hazard, grab some rockos and take that sonofabitch out. We'll draw his fire from here," Zeus ordered. The two other members of Goblin Team each took a rocket launcher and dashed from the crater.

The Wraith, now less than two hundred feet away, fired at the pair of MARSOC operators from its secondary turret. Mud and rock flew up around the feet of Gator and Hazard as they dashed towards a wrecked Warthog for cover. ODSTs moved up to covered their advance. Bender continued to suppress any aliens in our vicinity who dared to poke their heads up from cover.

Almost simultaneously, Gator and Hazard popped up from behind the Warthog and fired their rockets the Wraith. The first rocket hit the main gun of the Wraith, rendering it virtually ineffective. Moments later, the second missile punched through the side of the alien tank, causing it to erupt in a brilliant blue and white explosion, falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Cheers and whoops from the ODSTs and Marines filled the street, as the handful of surviving Covenant troops retreated down the dark, rainy street. The white light from the flare died out, and the street fell into darkness aside from the heavy fire from our weapons, fires from destroyed vehicles and the sporadic shots from the retreating aliens.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Zeus called down the line. Dull orange and blue light was cast down the street from the wrecked vehicles. The entire town was eerily quiet, aside from the heavy rain, the distant clatter of battle, and the cries from the wounded ahead of us - both human and alien. The barrel of our HMG hissed softly from the sleet pouring down on its burning hot barrel, a heavy cloud of steam billowing into the air.

"Is it over?" Bender muttered, breaking the silence.

I unslung my battle rifle from my shoulder, and scanned the street. I couldn't see a single live alien.

"I-I think so," I said reluctantly. Gator and Hazard ran double time back to our crater and slid in beside us. Gator squatted down into the bottom of the water-filled crater, now above our knees. He rested his head against the wall of the hole, and we all followed suit. The older O'Grady brother took a small, ancient pocket watch from inside his jacket and stroked its exterior. I sat in the water up to my stomach and placed my rifle across my knees. Zeus pulled out a pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and passed the pack around.

When the pack was in my hands, I stared at its crumpled exterior. I hadn't killed a single alien since my first engagement at the Mimir Line, but I felt like I had just fallen into hell and climbed back out again.

I pulled a cigarette out of the pack, and with trembling fingers put it in my mouth. Shaking, I took a lighter from Bender and lit it. I sucked in the smoke and exhaled slowly, coughing lightly. It didn't matter; I took a deeper pull the second time. A felt somewhat more relaxed.

I stared up at the dark, stormy night sky. Somewhere out there, Maddy and Jen were sitting at home on Charybdis, safe from... this.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

I looked over at the horrendous vista of death that this small town had become. The mountainous, muddy, rocky, street was strewn with hunks of metal and wrecked vehicles. Bodies from both sides literally _carpeted_ the street. Many corpses were mashed and mangled into the terrain, their blood, entrails, and brains churned into the ground.

Bender took back his lighter and tucked it into a pocket, "I thought you didn't smoke?" I took another deep drag of the cigarette.

"I don't."


End file.
